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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



STORIES OF HEROES 



EDITED BY 

CHARLES B. GILBERT 

SUPERINTENDENT OF SCHOOLS, ROCHESTER, NEW YORK 



WANDERING HEROES 



STORIES OF HEROES. 

Edited by CHARLES B. GILBERT, 

SUPERINTENDENT OF SCHOOLS, ROCHESTER, NEW YORK. 

A unique series of Readers, teaching history by gathering into 
separate volumes the stories of men representative of different 
stages of civilization, advancing from the lower to the higher, and 
in an order carefully adapted to the child's own development. 

EARLIEST VOLUMES: 

MYTHICAL HEROES. By Lillian L. Price, Normal and 
Training School, Newark, N.J., and Charles B. Gilbert, 
Superintendent of Schools, Rochester, N.Y. Illustrated. 

WANDERING HEROES. By Lillian L. Price, Normal and 
. Training School, Newark, N.J. Illustrated. 

HEROES OF CHIVALRY. By Louise Maitland. Illus- 
trated. 

IN PREPARATION: 
HEROES OF CONQUEST AND EMPIRE. 
HEROES OF DISCOVERY AND SCIENCE. 
HEROES OF FREEDOM. 



SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY. 

NEW YORK. BOSTON. CHICAGO. 



STORIES OF HEROES 



WANDERING HEROES 



BY 

LILLIAN L. PRICE 

NORMAL AND TRAINING SCHOOL, NEWARK, NEW JERSEY 



ILLUSTRATED 




* ■> '■ 



I 



SILVER, BURDETT AND COMPANY 

NEW YORK BOSTON CHICAGO 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Cowe8 Received 

IUL. 7 1902 

Copyright entry 

ciikss^xxc. No. 

COPY B. 



C- 






Copyright, 1902, 
By SILVER, BUEDETT AND COMPANY. 



•• - • • 
• • ••• • 

< c • • • •. 



GENERAL PREFACE. 

Whether, as Carlyle would have it, history 
consists properly in the biographies of conspicu- 
ous men; or, according to Freeman and his school, 
in the development of peoples ; or in the evolution 
of ideas, as Hegel argues ; is a question for philoso- 
phers. For children history is biography, and the 
biography of heroes. For them types must be 
individualized and apotheosized. History must be 
a series of pictures with heroes in the foreground. 

To children chronology is without meaning. 
Whether an event occurred yesterday or a thou- 
sand years ago makes no difference. " Eong, long 
ago' 5 and "once upon a time' : are quite as in- 
telligible and more effective than " three thousand 
years ago ,: or " in the year 56 B.C." 

Of vastly greater importance in the education 
of children than chronological sequence is psycho- 
logical sequence. In the earlier years of a child's 
study of history, events should be presented to 
him in the order in which he is able to apperceive 
them, rather than in the order of occurrence. This 
order will depend upon social and psychological 

vii 



viii GENERAL PREFACE. 

similarities. For example, the prehistoric Greek 
is more nearly allied to the German of the early 
Roman Empire than the latter to his contem- 
porary, the imperial Roman ; and the modern 
Bedouin is much nearer to Abraham than to the 
modern Englishman. 

This principle of psychological order has been 
followed in the present series of historical stories. 
Types representing similar stages of civilization 
are presented in conjunction, without regard to 
chronology. It is hoped that through these 
stories, thus grouped, children may be interested 
at the proper times of their own development in 
the various phases of the evolution of society and 
in history itself, and that the interest thus awak- 
ened may lead to a better study of history than is 
common in elementary schools. 

The stories may be classified as follows : — 

First, myths. These are the beginnings of his- 
tory, and should be presented to the child when 
his imagination is vivid enough to absorb without 
a shock the marvels of mythology merely as 
stories, and when his appetite is keen for all 
marvels. 

Second, stories of nomadic life. These repre- 
sent a very early stage of history, which should 
be presented to children when the demand for 
"true stories" arises and when the "tramp in- 



GENERAL PREFACE. ix 

stinct" awakens. The stories tell of wanderers of 
various times and different types, who may be 
rouglily classified as Pastoral Nomads, Religious 
Nomads, and Warlike Nomads. Their common 
characteristic is the absence of devotion to a fixed 
home, the readiness with which they moved from 
place to place in search of pasture or conquest, 
or to satisfy some personal craving. The differ- 
ences are due mainly to race characteristics and 
geographic conditions. 

Third, chivalry. The stories of this period, as 
well as the myths and tales of nomads, belong to 
the period of childhood in the development of 
civilized society. They may be said to represent 
the minority of society. The stories are drawn 
from two sources chiefly, the legends clustering 
about King Arthur and his Round Table and 
those relating to the followers of Charlemagne, 
especially as given in the " Chanson de Roland." 

Fourth, conquest and empire. The establish- 
ment of great personal empires, through conquest 
followed by organization, by men of extraordinary 
power, indicates a vastly higher order of civiliza- 
tion than those typified by the nomad and the 
knight errant. It may be said to represent the 
young manhood of society. It precedes and pre- 
pares the way for that higher development mani- 
fested in democratic freedom. 



X GENERAL PREFACE. 

Fifth, freedom. This stands for the highest 
stage of social evolution yet attained by man. It 
is the full manhood of society. Its heroes are 
actuated by nobler motives than those of any 
other social state. Altruism is here the ruling 
motive, growing out of the great value put upon 
individual liberty. 

Other books will follow, containing tales of the 
heroes who in various ways have made life worth 
living in an organized and highly developed society. 

C. B. GILBERT* 
Rochester, N.Y., 
April 1, 1902. 



INTRODUCTION. 

A nomad is a " wanderer " ; he does not live in 
one place, but wanders from one place to another, 
wherever he can find a living for a time or gain 
some other object which he desires. At one time 
or another the people of nearly every nation have 
lived in this way. 

Some nomads kept flocks of sheep and herds of 
cattle, and moved about, stopping wherever they 
could find water and pasture in plenty. Such a 
nomad was Abraham, who was ruler of his little 
company of followers and servants and was rich 
in flocks and herds. 

Other nomads were warlike, and, led by a brave 
chief, moved from land to land in great numbers, 
conquering the people they came upon and taking 
possession of all their property. Sometimes these 
warlike nomads, after conquering a people who 
had fixed homes and cities and cultivated fields, 
themselves stopped their wanderings and settled 
down to dwell in the cities or to cultivate the 
fields. 

This book tells of the deeds of nomads of dif- 
ferent kinds. The stories are not mere fancies as 
are the mythical stories, but tell of real people 
who once lived on the earth. 

xi 



CONTENTS. 



I. Abraham and Isaac 

II. Joseph 

III. Moses 

IV. Prince Siddartha . 
V. The First Battle of Cyrus the 

VI. The Khan of the Silver Crown 

VII. Clovis the Frank . 

VIII. The Dwarf of Attila the Hun 

IX. The Saga of the Land of Grapes 

X. Godwin and Knut . 



Pronouncing Vocabulary 



Gre 



XT 



PAGE 

1 

18 

42 

68 

89 

104 

119 

134 

151 

171 

191 



xm 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Jacob Learns of the Loss of Joseph . . Frontispiece 

Rebekah at the Well 

Isaac and Rebekah before Abraham 

Joseph Sold to the Merchants 

Joseph Interpreting Pharaoh's Dream 

Moses in the Bulrushes . 

Moses 

" The Gifts are Gone ; yet Here " . 

u The King's Will and Decree are the Laws of the Persians 

" A Tall Man, Descending the Mountain Path " . 

Clovis in Battle 

The Baptism of Clovis 

" A Strange Figure Met Demos's Glance " 

" < A Boat ! Two Boats ! They Are Coming Here ' " . 

" On the Edge of the Wood Appeared a Tall, Warlike Figure 



PAGE 
11 

15 

23 

31 l - 

45 - 

63 

77 

95 
111 ^ 
123 
131 
137" 
161 
179 



xv 



ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. 



ABRAHAM was beloved of God, and God 
had blessed him with flocks and herds 
of such 4 great number that it was hard 
always to find sweet fresh grass which they might 
eat, and wells of water for drinking. Abraham was 
therefore obliged to wander from place to place 
seeking pasturage. 

He and his people lived in tents, and he ruled 
over all that lived with him, and was the father 
of his people. Now he was an old man, whose 
silver beard fell to his waist, and his wife Sarah 
was an old woman, yet God had blessed their 
old age with a son, a beautiful lad called Isaac. 
To Abraham, Isaac was as the core of his heart 
and the light of his eyes, and Isaac was a gentle, 
obedient boy. 

The calm, beautiful twilight of Canaan was fall- 
ing over the land one evening, as Isaac stood in the 
doorway of his father's tent. About him stood the 
tents of the household, their roofs of black camel' s- 
hair cloth contrasting with the green of the grass 

1 



2 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. 

slopes, under the purple blue of the eastern sky. 
Beyond lay broad pastures, dotted with flocks 
and herds. The evening silence was broken by 
the lowing of cattle and the voices of the herds- 
men talking to each other, as they walked to and 
fro over the little beaten paths to the wells, carry- 
ing their water-jars. The tent of Abraham was 
of fine black cloth stretched over three parallel 
rows of poles. Its sides were open to the air, and 
the cool evening wind blew under it, stirring the 
long curtains which hid the sleeping-places. 

Supper was in preparation, and the handmaids 
of Sarah, sitting upon the floor, kneaded fine meal 
into cakes and dressed a kid. On one side of the 
tent stood a loom, where in the fading light Sarah 
yet sat, throwing the shuttle. Scattered about 
the floor stood the saddles of the camels, which 
served as chairs. 

Isaac's face was strong and resolute, yet it had 
a gentle, tender expression. Thick, curling, black 
locks of hair shaded his forehead. Standing there 
in his robe of simple goat's-hair cloth, girdled with 
a crimson cord, he was a sight to gladden his 
father's eyes. 

Presently, as Isaac stood watching for him in 
the tent door, Abraham appeared, walking slowly 
and leaning upon his staff. When his eyes rested 
upon Isaac a great sadness overspread his rugged 



ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. 3 

features. Abraham had been alone in a wild 
place talking to God, and God had said to him, 
" Take now thy son, thine only son whom thou 
lovest, even Isaac, and get thee into the land of 
Moriah, and offer him there for a burnt offering, 
upon one of the mountains which I will tell 
thee of." 

Isaac ran and placed a seat for his father, and 
then brought the vessel of water that he might 
wash his feet. Abraham looked upon his strong 
young beauty and gentle, loving ways, in deepening 
silence and sadness. 

Early the next morning Isaac was roused from 
his sleep by Abraham bending over him. The lad 
crept from his couch at his father's silent command 
and without a question followed him out of doors. 
The sun had not yet risen, and a lovely freshness lay 
over the fields. Quiet reigned throughout the tents, 
and the stirring cattle tinkled soft and drowsy bells. 
Isaac saw an ass saddled, and two men-servants 
standing apart. While he ran to a well for his 
morning bath, his father chopped billets of w r ood 
such as were used in the building of altars. These 
the servants loaded upon the ass. Isaac stood be- 
neath the boughs of the tamarisk tree, which his 
father had planted beside the tent, and waited until 
everything w r as ready. The provisions were placed 
upon the backs of the servants, and the little train 



4 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. 

set forth with the first beams of the rising sun, 
winding its way between the silent tents. Isaac 
followed his father with wondering eyes, for never 
before had he been taken on such a strange and 
silent journey. Usually he had ridden in the 
camel train with the women^and children. Now 
Abraham strode before them all, leaning heavily 
upon his staff. A little behind him came Isaac, 
taking in the fresh and ever changing scenes with 
joyful eyes. 

The men-servants brought up the rear with the 
patient little ass, bearing fagots. The whole train 
journeyed into the country toward the low and 
distant hills, lying purple blue in the shadows of 
the early morning. 

So they traveled for three days, and at the end 
of the third day they came into the land of Moriah, 
to the mountain which God had shown to Abra- 
ham. When Abraham saw the mountain he broke 
his silence and ordered the servants to strike flints 
and kindle a fire. He brought the journey to a 
close and took the sticks from the ass. As the 
servant handed him the blazing torch Abraham 
said, " Abide ye here with the ass, and I and the 
lad will go yonder ; and we will worship and 
come again to you." He took the wood for the 
burnt offering and laid it upon Isaac. He him- 
self took the fire and the knife, and together they 



ABEAHAM AND ISAAC. 5 

went up a little foot-path leading to a rocky ledge. 
Isaac bore the heavy fagots without complaint, 
though they bent his slender shoulders, and at last 
he said, "My father?" 

Abraham answered, " Here am I, my son." Then 
Isaac said, " Behold the fire and the wood, but 
where is the lamb for a burnt offering?" 

Abraham answered simply, " God will provide 
himself the lamb for a burnt offering, my son;' : 
and they went up together. By and by they 
stopped at the base of a smooth ledge of rock, 
girdled about by a thicket of bushes. Here, Abra- 
ham bade Isaac put down the wood. The boy did 
so, glad to be rid of his burden ; and sitting quietly 
upon the edge of the rock, he held the smoking 
torch while he gazed abroad over mountains and 
valley. Behind him, Abraham built an altar of 
the fagots of wood, and then called Isaac. The 
lad sprang to his feet at the sound of his father's 
voice, and stood before him. Abraham, lifting 
his eyes up to heaven, stretched out his hand, and 
laying it upon Isaac's shoulder, commanded him 
to lie down upon the altar. Isaac did not falter 
for a second, but with his eyes fastened upon his 
father, he laid himself upon the pile, and permitted 
himself to be bound there without resistance. Abra- 
ham stooped, picked up the knife, and again with 
eyes turned toward heaven directed the point of 



6 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. 

its blade straight above Isaac's heart, ready to 
strike. Isaac's sad eyes still clung with loving 
glances to that father's face, never heeding the 
knife of the sacrifice, when suddenly Abraham 
paused and listened. Out of the cloudless blue of 
heaven rang a voice, crying, " Abraham, Abra- 
ham ! " 

Abraham answered, " Here am I ! ' Then the 
voice said, " Lay not thine hand upon the lad, 
neither do thou anything unto him : for now I 
know that thou fearest God, seeing that thou hast 
not withheld thy son, thine only son, from me." 

Abraham dropped the knife as the voice ceased, 
and glancing toward the bushes, saw a ram there 
with its horns caught in the branches. He ran 
and seized the ram, and then with a thankful 
heart released Isaac from the altar. Upon it in 
his stead he bound the ram, which he sacrificed 
to God, and the smoke rose as a sweet incense to 
heaven. 

Abraham and Isaac took the pathway down the 
mountain together, and again God spoke to Abra- 
ham, promising him a reward for his obedience. 
They came to the men-servants with the ass, wait- 
ing in the valley, and they all journeyed together 
to Beer-sheba. 

When Isaac beheld his mother's tent and the 
flocks wandering upon the grass slopes, his heart 



ABKAHAM AND ISAAC. 7 

leapt for joy. At the door of the tent stood 
Sarah, watching with aching eyes down the little 
pathway, whence Abraham had departed with 
Isaac. She had said farewell to the lad as he lay 
asleep, and now looked only for the return of 
Abraham that she might comfort him. When she 
saw Isaac himself come leaping and bounding up 
the pathway to her, she sank upon her knees with 
outstretched arms, and clasping him to her bosom, 
praised God with heart and lips. 

II. 

Abraham grew to be very old. He went out no 
longer among the flocks and herds, but sat all day 
in the doorway of his tent where all his household 
came to him with respect and reverence. Isaac 
was now grown to manhood, and it was necessary 
that he should marry and have a home of his own, 
since Abraham could not hope to live many years 
longer. 

Abraham had an old servant whom he trusted 
to do everything that he himself had once done, 
and one day as he sat in the door of the tent at 
eventide he called this servant to him. When they 
had talked over the affairs of the day, Abraham 
told the servant that he was going to send him 
to Mesopotamia to seek a wife for Isaac. The 
servant promised to do as Abraham bade him, and 



8 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. 

immediately made the preparations for the journey. 
He took ten camels laden with rich gifts and set 
out for Mesopotamia. 

After a long journey he came to the city of 
Nahor in that country. He arrived at the city 
about eventide and halted near the wells at the 
time when the women were wont to go down to 
draw water. The camels, tired with the day's 
journey, were glad to kneel. Then the servant 
prayed thus to God: " Lord, the God of my 
master, send me I pray thee good speed this day, 
and shew kindness unto thy servant Abraham. 
Behold I stand by the fountains of water; and 
the daughters of the men of the city come out 
to draw water: and let it come to pass that the 
damsel to whom I say, 'Let down thy pitcher I 
pray thee, that I may drink,' and she shall say, 
' Drink, and I will give thy camels to drink also ' ; 
let the same be she that thou hast appointed for 
thy servant Isaac." 

Even while the servant prayed, a tall, beautiful 
girl, slender of form and fair of face, came through 
the gate of the city bearing her water-jar upon her 
shoulder. 

She passed by a well nearer to the city, where 
many of the maidens were gathered, letting down 
their jars and laughing and talking together, and 
came slowly by a winding path to the well where 



ABEAHAM AND ISAAC. 9 

the camels of Abraham knelt. There she stooped 
over the well and filled her pitcher. The servant 
went to meet her and said, " Give me to drink, I 
pray thee, a little water from thy pitcher." With 
a smile she let down her water-jar from her shoulder 
to her hands, and held it out to him, saying, "Drink, 
my lord." The servant took a long draught of 
the pure water, and the maiden, looking toward 
the thirsty camels, said, " I will draw for thy 
camels also, until they have done drinking." 

Near by stood a drinking-trough for beasts, and 
running to the well the maiden refilled her pitcher 
and poured its contents into the trough, going to 
and fro many times, till all the camels had had a 
drink. The servant watched her while she did 
this, with growing joy in his heart. Taking from 
the saddle-bags of a camel a gold ring and two 
gold bracelets, he put them upon the maid and 
said, " Whose daughter art thou ? Tell me, I pray 
thee. Is there room in thy father's house for us to 
lodge in ? " 

The maiden replied, " I am Rebekah, the daughter 
of Bethuel, and the granddaughter of Nahor. We 
have both straw and provender enough, and room to 
lodge in." 

The servant bowed his head and gave thanks to 
God, for he knew that Nahor was the brother of 
his master, Abraham. 



10 ABE AH AM AND ISAAC. 

Rebekah quickly refilled her water-jar, and bid- 
ding the servant wait there with his camels, she 
ran hastily to her mother's tent. Her mother was 
greatly surprised at her story, and as Bethuel 
had not come in from the flocks, she sent Re- 
bekah to find her brother Laban. He was just 
returning from the fields, staff in hand, when 
Rebekah ran to him, showing him the rich orna- 
ments and telling her story. He went at once to 
the well where the servant still waited with his 
camels. Laban greeted the servant with warm 
words of welcome, and together they entered the 
city gate and came to the tents of the household 
of Bethuel. The camels were led to a resting-place, 
the great saddles laden with rich gifts carried to the 
tents, and a vessel of water set before the servant 
that he might wash his feet. 

Bethuel now came into the tent and heard all the 
servant's story from beginning to end, even to the 
point where he prayed Bethuel to let him take 
Rebekah back with him to be a wife to Isaac. 
Bethuel and Laban both gave their consent, and 
the servant again thanked the Lord God. Then he 
took the precious gifts that he had brought and laid 
them before Rebekah. After this they all sat down 
to supper. 

The servant was anxious to get back to his own 
land, so in the morning he proposed that he and the 



ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. 13 

maiden start at once. Rebekah's mother and her 
brother Laban, realizing how far from them she was 
going, asked the servant to delay the homeward 
journey for ten days. But as he insisted, they 
called in Rebekah, explained to her the servant's 
desire and said, " Wilt thou go with this man ? ' : 

She answered simply, " I will go." 

Preparations for the departure were soon com- 
pleted, and the entire family of Bethuel came 
together to bid Rebekah farewell. The camel 
train stood at the door. Upon one camel Rebekah 
was to ride, and beside her upon another, her nurse. 
With them also went a train of damsels, the hand- 
maids of Rebekah. 

Bethuel and her brothers blessed Rebekah as she 
stood beside her mother in the door of the tent. 
Then she mounted her camel, and the little train 
rode away from Nahor and set their faces toward 
Beer-sheba. 

In Beer-sheba there were three great wells of 
water from which the flocks were watered. These 
had become so low that Isaac was compelled to 
take a part of the flocks to another place farther 
south, called Be-er-la-hai-roi, where there was a 
great well of water. Now Abraham's servant 
with his camel train found it necessary to follow 
the roads along which were good wells of water, 
and he came into Be-er-la-hai-roi one evening at 



14 ABEAHAM AND ISAAC. 

sunset while Isaac was there with his flocks. 
Having watered the camels at the well, the serv- 
ant set forward toward Beer-sheba. 

In the cool of the evening, after a hard day's 
work, Isaac was walking alone across the fields, 
wrapped in his own thoughts. Beyond, upon the 
deserted" roadway, as he lifted his eyes, he saw 
a camel train approaching. Rebekah was very 
weary, and seeing, at a little distance, a village of 
tents, she halted her camel and dismounted, think- 
ing they would rest there. 

The servant, looking up, was surprised to see 
Isaac crossing toward him. He alighted and ran 
to Rebekah. She was standing with her maidens, 
looking at Isaac. As the servant approached she 
said, " What man is this that walketh in the field 
to meet us ? " 

The servant answered, u It is my master." 

Rebekah immediately asked for her veil, and 
covered her face. The servant, hastening to Isaac, 
told him all that he had done. 

Isaac came up to Rebekah. Without removing 
her veil, he led her to the foremost camel of the 
train, and lifting her to the saddle, himself led the 
camel up to Beer-sheba, to his mother's tent. 

Then within the tent, before Abraham, Isaac 
lifted the veil from Rebekah's face, and he loved 
Rebekah, and she loved him. Abraham, knowing 



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ABE AH AM AND ISAAC. 17 

that Rebekah was the daughter of his brother 
Nahor, was filled with peace, and lifting up his 
voice he blessed both Rebekah and Isaac. 

Because of Abraham's obedience, God blessed him 
and made him the father of a great nation. Jacob, 
the son of Isaac and Rebekah, was the father of 
Joseph, the mighty ruler of Egypt ; and when the 
tribes of the children of Abraham had become a 
great people, out of their midst arose Moses, the 
great lawgiver and the founder of a nation — the 
Hebrews. 



JOSEPH. 



IN the valley of Hebron was the dwelling place 
of Jacob. The broad fields were fertile, 
yielding grass and grain, so there he pitched 
his tents and abode with his household and sons. 
Jacob had had two wives, Rachel and Leah, and he 
had twelve sons, who dwelt in the vale of Hebron 
with him ; and they, too, married and had tents and 
households of their own, but they tended their 
father's flocks. 

Two of these twelve sons of Jacob were not old 
enough to marry, but lived in the tent of their 
father. They were the two sons of his wife 
Rachel, who was dead, and their names were 
Joseph and Benjamin. Joseph, the elder, was 
seventeen years old, and a lad of great beauty and 
sweetness of spirit. Benjamin was a little lad, not 
yet come to years. Jacob loved Benjamin and 
Joseph exceedingly, but upon Joseph his heart was 
set. He did not send him into the fields to tend 
sheep as he did his elder sons who were men grown, 
but kept him always hy his side, and dressed him 

18 



JOSEPH. 19 

in a coat made of scarlet and blue, the seams set 
with gold thread, and the coat itself trimmed with 
embroideries of rich colors and silver. Such a gar- 
ment as young princes wear, wore Joseph in the 
tent of his father, while his brothers, in plain gar- 
ments, tended the flocks in the fields. Jacob was 
a very old man, and his sons dared say nothing to 
him against Joseph, but in their hearts they hated 
their brother. 

One day at eventide, as Jacob sat in his tent 
door, waiting for his sons to come up from the 
fields and say good night to him, after the flocks 
had been watered and sheltered for the night, he 
kept each of them till the ten were there. Then 
he called Joseph, saying, " The lad hath had a 
strange dream, which ye shall hear." 

Joseph stood before his brethren and told his 
dream to them. He said, "Hear, I pray you, this 
dream which I have dreamed. For behold we 
were binding sheaves in the field, and lo, my sheaf 
arose and also stood upright ; and behold your 
sheaves stood round about and did obeisance to my 
sheaf." 

Joseph thought little of the dream, save that it 
was a strange one, and interesting to Jacob; but 
his brothers, as they went their ways through the 
tent-paths, said to each other, "Doth Joseph then 
think to reign over us? Shall he indeed have 



20 JOSEPH. 

dominion over us? ,: And they hated him the 
more for his dream. 

A few nights later Joseph again dreamed a dream. 
Sitting beside a well of water where the flocks 
came to drink at sunset, he told his brothers what 
he had dreamed. " Behold/' he said, " I have 
dreamed a dream more ; and behold, the sun and 
the moon and the eleven stars made obeisance to 
me." Then his brothers, with anger kindling in 
their eyes, brought him before Jacob, saying, "Hear 
ye yet this other dream that the lad hath dreamed." 
Jacob, when he heard it, said, " What, shall I and 
thy mother and thy brethren, indeed, come to bow 
ourselves before thee unto the earth ? ,: But Jacob 
wondered much what the dream might mean. 

Now in Hebron the sun dried up the grass, and 
the wells of water were so low that Jacob sent away 
his sons with many of his flocks and herds, over 
into Shechem which was well watered. But he 
and all his household remained in Hebron. After 
many days, no messenger* having come from She- 
chem, to say how his sons and the flocks were 
faring there, Jacob grew anxious and said to 
Joseph, " Do not thy brethren feed the flocks in 
Shechem? Come, I will send thee unto them." 
Joseph knew well that his brothers would not be 
glad to see him, yet he answered simply, "Here am 
I." Jacob said, "Go to Shechem and see whether 



JOSEPH. 21 

it be well with thy brethren, and well with the 
flocks." 

When Joseph came to Shechem, he found that 
land, too, so dry that his brothers had been com- 
pelled to drive the flocks farther on, to a land 
called Dothan. Here in Dothan, as the evening 
was falling, he came upon his father's flocks and 
his brothers' tents. His brothers, sitting before 
their tent doors, saw Joseph coming, before he saw 
them, because across the level plain the sun shone 
upon the brilliant colors of his coat. When they 
saw him coming to them thus alone, and far from 
all help, their hatred rose up bitter and heavy, and 
they longed to kill him. 

" Behold," they said, " this dreamer cometh. 
Come now, therefore, and let us slay him and cast 
him into some pit, and we will say, ' Some evil 
beast hath devoured him ' ; and we shall see what 
will become of his dreams !" 

Reuben was the oldest son of Jacob and at the 
head of the councils of the brethren. He, coming 
in from the fields, found them plotting to murder 
the little innocent lad who was springing joyfully 
across the fields to meet them. He said, " Let us 
not kill him." Then as their faces darkened only 
more at his words in Joseph's behalf, he saw that 
he alone could not save him. 

Now the fields of Dothan, where they were pas- 



22 JOSEPH. 

turing their cattle, were rough and wild, and near 
the tent was a deep pit which had been digged for 
a well, but no water was found. Reuben, casting 
his eyes about him, saw this pit. Approaching his 
brothers, he put his hands upon their shoulders, and 
persuaded them, saying, " Shed no blood, my 
brothers. Put. Joseph into this pit, but lay no 
hand upon him." In his heart Reuben purposed 
to draw him out during the night, and send him 
back secretly to his father. The others feared to 
disobey Reuben's counsels because he was the eldest 
brother, therefore they decided not to kill Joseph. 
But when the lad came into the tents, they cried out 
fiercely at him, and laying rough hands upon him, 
tore off the coat of many colors, and catching him 
up, flung him, naked and helpless, into the cold 
damp pit. Joseph, knowing how he was hated 
among his brothers, suffered all this without a 
word. 

When it was time for supper Reuben was not 
willing to sit with his brothers, so he went to his 
own tent to break bread and have all things in 
readiness to send Joseph in the darkness back to 
their father. The other brothers sat at bread to- 
gether near the pit, and as they ate, a train of 
camels came into sight out of the land of Midian, 
bearing Ishmaelites who were carrying spices and 
balm and myrrh, to sell them in the land of Egypt. 



o 



JOSEPH. 25 

Then spoke Judah, one of the brothers. He was 
a cold man, selfish of heart, so he said, "What 
shall it profit us if we slay our brother and conceal 
his blood ? Come, let us sell him to these mer- 
chantmen. He is our brother and our flesh, there- 
fore our hand should not be upon him." 

This way of saving themselves from the crime 
of murder, and yet getting rid of Joseph, pleased 
all the brothers. They drew him up out of the 
pit, and flung clothes upon him. Then while he 
cried and besought them for his father's sake not 
to sell him into slavery, far from his ow r n land and 
kindred, while clinging to their hands, and kneel- 
ing at their feet, they bargained with the mer- 
chants for twenty pieces of silver, and Joseph was 
bound, and flung upon the back of a camel. 

When the silence of night had fallen over the 
tents, Reuben stole softly to the pit, bearing clothes 
and food for Joseph, that he might send him back 
to his father. Bending over the pit, he called 
softly, but no voice answered him. At last when 
Reuben was sure that the pit was empty, he rent 
his clothes and ran mourning to his brothers' tents, 
crying, "The child is not; and I, w r hither shall I 
go?'' For he, and now all his guilty brothers 
with him, feared what Jacob would say when he 
required his son at their hands. They told Reuben 
nothing of the Midianites, but one of them quietly 



26 JOSEPH. 

ran and killed a kid, and dipped Joseph's beautiful 
coat in its blood. Then another hurried across the 
fields, as if to search for his brother, and after 
many hours returned, but he had only the stained 
and bloody coat to show to Reuben. Reuben sor- 
rowfully took it, to lay it in all its tatters and 
rags at the feet of Jacob, on the day of their 
return. 

When at length they reached home, Jacob sat 
joyfully awaiting them, in the door of his tent. 
Reuben, to spare his brothers from the wrath of 
their father, stood silent while Jacob told them 
how he had sent Joseph to them, and then lay- 
ing the coat at Jacob's feet said, " This have we 
found. Know now whether it be thy son's coat 
or no." 

Jacob lifted it with trembling hands. "It is 
my son's coat," he cried ; " an evil beast hath 
devoured him ; Joseph is without doubt rent in 
pieces." He rose and rent his garments, and sit- 
ting in sackcloth and ashes, mourned for Joseph 
many days. All his sons and daughters tried to 
console him, but he refused to be comforted. He 
said, "I will go down unto the grave to my son, 
mourning." And then Benjamin, Joseph's only 
brother, crept near to the heart of Jacob, and was 
the light and comfort of his old age. 



JOSEPH. 27 



II. 



It was early morning in Thebes, the great city 
of the pharaohs of Egypt. In the market-place all 
was bustle and stir. Merchants placed their goods 
for sale, and in the great palace of Potiphar, cap- 
tain of the guard of Pharaoh, word was brought 
that certain Ishmaelites from the land of Midian 
had arrived, bearing rare spices, balm, and myrrh. 
Potiphar thereupon hastened into the market-place, 
and, being led to a spot where a little group of 
camels knelt apart, he came upon the merchant- 
men, who called a tall, sad-faced lad to show to 
Potiphar the merchandise. Potiphar, as he bar- 
gained, noted the great beauty of the lad, and the 
sweetness of his face. " Who is this bearer of thy 
burdens?" he asked of the Ishmaelites, and they 
told him that Joseph was a slave, bought by 
them in Dothan for twenty pieces of silver. 
" I will take him," said Potiphar, " for thirty 
pieces." 

Joseph was now taken into Potiphar's household 
and clothed, after the Egyptian fashion, with great 
richness. To his eyes, accustomed only to tents 
and fields and wandering flocks, the magnificence 
of Thebes was terrifying. But little by little 
he became used to it. Potiphar put him in a 
position of trust, and he learned the ways, even 



28 JOSEPH. 

of Pharaoh's palace, being sent there so often by 
Potiphar. 

Potiphar loved Joseph very much, and taught 
him much of the wisdom of Egypt. So one day 
when he came in and an evil story was told him of 
Joseph, he could not bear to believe it. But at 
last he was persuaded to believe it. Yet he would 
not throw him into the common prison, but had 
him put into the place, attached to his own palace, 
where Pharaoh's prisoners were kept. When the 
keeper of the prison heard the story, he would not 
believe Joseph guilty, but gave him control of all 
the prisoners in his own ward, and allowed him to 
go about the prison as he wished. 

Pharaoh, the king of Egypt, gave a great feast ; 
and because certain wines were spilled by the cup- 
bearers, and certain cakes made many of his guests 
ill, he was angry, and sent word to Potiphar, his 
captain of the guard, to throw both the chief butler 
and the chief baker into prison. They were put 
into Joseph's ward, and Joseph, coming in to them 
one morning, and finding them very sad, discov- 
ered that both had been troubled with strange 
dreams. Joseph pitied their sadness, and when he 
knew from what it arose he asked them to tell him 
their dreams, and he interpreted them. The but- 
ler, he said, would be placed again in Pharaoh's 
palace, but the baker would be hanged. And so it 



JOSEPH. 29 

proved. Joseph asked the butler to remember him, 
and to ask Pharaoh to pardon him ; but the butler, 
having gotten out of prison, forgot all about Joseph, 
until a time came when it was worth his while to 
remember him. 

Two years later Pharaoh awoke one morning 
very ill at ease. He had had a dream which was 
troubling him greatly, and every soothsayer and 
magician was hurried into his presence to inter- 
pret this dream. But none of them could find its 
meaning. The chief butler heard of Pharaoh's dis- 
tress, and coming in before the king, he told him 
of the Hebrew prisoner who had interpreted his 
dream and that of the chief baker, and that they 
had both been served according to the interpreta- 
tion. Pharaoh sent at once for Joseph. When 
Joseph heard that Pharaoh wanted him, he shaved 
himself, and putting on proper robes, hastened 
before him. 

The king sat upon his golden throne, downcast 
and sad, and when he saw Joseph bowing before 
him, he said, " I have dreamed a dream, and there 
is none that can interpret it ; and I have heard of 
thee, that thou canst understand a dream to inter- 
pret it." 

Joseph replied, " It is not in me ; God shall 
give Pharaoh an answer of peace." 

So Pharaoh told his dream. " Behold," he said, 



30 JOSEPH. 

" I stood upon the bank of a river. And behold, 
there came up out of the river seven kine, fat- 
fleshed and well favored ; and they fed in a 
meadow. And behold, seven other kine came 
up after them, poor and very ill-favored, and 
lean-fleshed, such as I never saw in all the land 
of Egypt for badness. And the lean and ill- 
favored kine did eat up the seven fat kine. And 
when they had eaten them, it could not be known 
that they had eaten them, for they were still ill- 
favored as at the beginning. 

u And behold, seven ears came up in one stalk, 
full and good. And behold, seven ears, withered, 
thin, and blasted with the east wind, came up 
after them. And the thin ears devoured the seven 
good ears. And I told this unto the magicians, 
but none could interpret it for me." 

Joseph said : " What God is about to do, He 
hath showed Pharaoh. The seven good kine are 
seven years, and the seven good ears are seven 
years. And the seven ill-favored kine are seven 
years, and the seven empty ears are seven years of 
famine. There shall come seven years of plenty 
throughout the land of Egypt. Then there shall 
arise after them seven years of famine, and the 
seven years of plenty shall be forgotten. The 
famine shall consume the land. And the plenty 
shall not be known in the land by reason of the 



JOSEPH. 33 

famine following ; for it shall be very grievous. 
God will shortly bring thy dream to pass." 

Pharaoh believed Joseph's interpretation of his 
dream. Then Joseph told him to appoint some 
one who should have full power to gather and 
store away one-fifth of all the crops during the 
seven years of plenty, so that the Egyptians 
should not perish with hunger during the seven 
years of famine. Pharaoh was so greatly pleased 
with Joseph, as he stood before him, and with the 
wisdom of his words, that he made him ruler over 
all the land of Egypt. The king took the ring 
from his own hand and put it upon Joseph's hand, 
arrayed him in fine linen, and put a gold chain 
about his neck. He made him ride in a chariot 
second only to his own for beauty, and gave him 
a beautiful palace to live in, and an Egyptian 
princess for a wife ; and all who stood before 
Joseph, first bowed the knee to him, so great 
had he become. 

Joseph was now thirty years of age, of fine face 
and figure, speaking the language of Egypt, and 
living in all ways the life of an Egyptian prince. 
The tent of his father, the wandering herds of 
cattle, his envious brothers, and his own strange 
dreams often came back to his memory, as, during 
the seven years of plenty, he stored great supplies 
of grain. But though his heart yearned for his 



34 JOSEPH. 

own kin, 'he faithfully performed his duty to Pha- 
raoh. At last the seven years of plenty passed, 
and the famine with all its sorrow broke over the 
land. 

The people who lived in the countries about 
Egypt, hearing there was corn there, sent to buy it. 

Jacob, in the vale of Hebron, looked out of his 
tent door upon his blasted fields and starving 
cattle. Then his eyes turned upon the thin, pale 
faces in the tents about him, and he said slowly, 
" Why do ye look one upon the other ? There is 
corn in Egypt." He called his sons to him, and 
sent ten of them to buy corn. But Benjamin, 
Joseph's own brother, he would not let go. " For," 
he said, " remember Joseph's coat. Some mischief 
might befall him." The ten brothers of Joseph 
came up to Thebes, and joined the throngs in the 
streets who were pressing up toward the grana- 
ries to buy food. Joseph received all those who 
came to buy corn, in his great palace hall, which 
stood before the granaries ; and presently, among 
all the people, he saw his brothers approaching 
him. They soon came to him and bowed their 
faces to the earth. Joseph, standing there, gov- 
ernor of Egypt, remembered his dream. Then he 
hid his real feelings and said in a rough voice, 
" Whence came ye?" They answered, "From 
the land of Canaan, to buy food." 



JOSEPH. 35 

" Ye are spies/' said Joseph ; " to see the naked- 
ness of the land ye are come." But they said, 
" Nay, my lord, but to buy food are thy ser- 
vants come." For not one of them knew, in the 
stern, powerful face before whose look they trem- 
bled, the features of their little brother Joseph. 
" We are all one man's sons ; we are true men ; 
thy servants are no spies." 

Joseph, looking from face to face, repeated slowly, 
" To spy out the nakedness of the land, ye are 
come." They said, " Thy servants are twelve 
brethren, the sons of one man in the land of Ca- 
naan. And behold the youngest is this day with 
our father, and one is not." 

Now Joseph understood well that they thought 
him to be dead; but when they told him of his lit- 
tle brother Benjamin, he longed to see him. Yet 
in a rougher tone than ever he said, " That ye are 
not spies must be proven. By the life of Pharaoh, 
ye shall not go forth hence, except your youngest 
brother come hither. Send one of you and let 
him fetch your brother, and ye shall be kept in 
prison that your words may be proven, whether 
there be any truth in you ; or else, by the life of 
Pharaoh, ye are surely spies." 

Then he cast them all into prison for three days. 
Going to them he said, " If ye are true men, let 
one of your brothers be bound here in prison ; go 



36 JOSEPH. 

ye, carry corn for the famine of your houses, but 
bring your youngest brother unto me ; so shall 
your words be made true, and ye shall not die." 

Joseph had not spoken to them in their own 
tongue, but through an interpreter, who, under- 
standing both Egyptian and Hebrew, spoke 
Joseph's words to the brothers, and theirs to him. 
Now as he stood by, they began to speak to each 
other in their own Hebrew tongue, which Joseph 
understood well, though he gave no sign. They 
looked at each other with sorrowful faces and said, 
" We are guilty of the death of our brother Joseph, 
and his blood is come upon us. For we saw the 
sorrow of his soul when he besought us not to sell 
him, yet we would not hear. Therefore is this 
distress come upon us." Reuben answered, " Spake 
I not unto you saying, ' Do not sin against the 
child ; and ye would not hear ? Therefore behold 
also his own brother, Benjamin, must be lost to 
our father.' " 

Joseph, after listening to these words, turned 
aside and wept. Then he took Simeon and bound 
him and kept him in prison. But the others he 
released. He commanded that their sacks be 
filled with corn, but that each man's money be re- 
stored to his sack. When, upon their homeward 
way, one of them opened his sack and found his 
money in it, he told the others, and they were all 



JOSEPH. 37 

smitten with fear. They came at last to Jacob, 
and told him what had happened to them in Egypt, 
before the great governor. 

When the sacks of corn were opened, every man 
found his money in his sack, and they and their 
father were sore afraid. Jacob cried out to his 
sons : " Ye have robbed me of my children ! 
Joseph is not, and Simeon is not, and now ye will 
take Benjamin away!' Then Reuben spoke to 
his father, " Slay my two sons if I bring him not 
to thee again. Deliver him into my hands, my 
father, and I will bring him unto thee again." 

But Jacob said, " My son shall not go down with 
you ! His brother is dead, and he is left alone ! 
If mischief should befall him by the way in which 
ye go, then shall ye bring down my gray hairs in 
sorrow to the grave." 

After a time, however, the corn they had bought 
was all eaten, and hunger began to press them 
sorely. Then Jacob said, " Go again, buy us a 
little food ! ' : Judah said, " The governor of Egypt 
did solemnly protest, ' Ye shall not see my face 
again except your brother be with you.' Send the 
lad with me, and if I bring him not unto thee and 
set him before thee, let me bear the blame for- 
ever." 

Jacob replied, " If it must be so now, do this ; 
take of the best fruits in the land and carry down 



38 JOSEPH. 

the man a present, a little balm and a little honey, 
spices and myrrh, nuts and almonds. And take 
double money in your hand ; and the money that 
was brought in the mouth of your sacks, carry it 
again in your hand ; perhaps it was an oversight. 
Take also your brother, and arise and go unto the 
man. And God Almighty give you mercy before 
the man, that he may send away your other 
brother and Benjamin. If I lose my children, 
what have I ? " 

The brethren did as Jacob said, and at last stood 
before Joseph with Benjamin. When Joseph saw 
Benjamin, he said to the steward of his house, 
" Prepare a dinner for these men with me to-day." 
The steward brought his brothers into Joseph's 
own house. They were now very greatly fright- 
ened, and when they came to the door of the 
palace, they explained to the steward about the 
money they had found in their sacks. He said, 
u Peace be to you ; fear not ; your God, and the 
God of your father hath given you treasure in your 
sacks. I had your money." 

And he brought Simeon out to them. Then 
they were led into Joseph's house, and the steward 
treated them kindly. But they, in fear and trem- 
bling, got their father's present ready for Joseph, 
when he should come in at noon. When he came, 
they laid the present before him and bowed them- 



JOSEPH. 39 

selves to the earth. Joseph asked them, " Is your 
father well? The old man of whom you spake, 
is he yet alive ? " 

They answered that he was, and bowed their 
heads to do Joseph obeisance. Joseph then look- 
ing at Benjamin, his mother's son, asked, " Is this 
your younger brother of whom ye spake to me ? 
God be gracious to thee, my son ! ' Joseph could 
bear no more, but withdrawing himself from his 
brothers, he went to his own chamber and there 
wept alone. Afterward he entertained them amidst 
his own household with a fine dinner. 

He commanded his steward to fill every man's 
sack abundantly, replace his money, and into Ben- 
jamin's sack to put his own silver cup. 

As soon as it was morning light they were all 
sent away. They had gone but a little distance, 
when Joseph sent his servant to overtake them and 
accuse them of stealing his silver cup. This they 
indignantly denied, saying that if the cup were 
found in any man's sack, he would become a bond- 
man to Egypt. Search was made and the cup was 
found in Benjamin's sack. At this they rent their 
clothes and hurried back before Joseph, and Judah 
pleaded humbly before him that he make not a bond- 
man of Benjamin. " For," said he, " my father said 
unto us, ' Ye know that my wife, Rachel, bore me 
two sons ; and the one went from me and was torn 



40 JOSEPH. 

to pieces, and I saw him never again. And if ye 
take Benjamin from me, ye shall bring my gray 
hairs with sorrow unto the grave.' Now, there- 
fore, when I come to my father and the lad is not 
with us, seeing that his life is bound up in the lad's 
life, I shall bring his gray hairs in sorrow to the 
grave. Behold, I am surety for the lad ! Let thy 
servant abide a bondman instead of the lad, and 
let the lad go up to his father. I cannot go to my 
father if the lad be not with me, nor witness the 
suffering of my father." 

Joseph's heart could bear no longer all his yearn- 
ing toward his brothers. He caused the room to 
be cleared of all others. Then he bowed himself 
and wept, and said, " I am Joseph." But his 
brothers were troubled to see in this haughty 
ruler, now broken with weeping, the little shep- 
herd lad they had sold to the Ishmaelites, and 
their sin rose up before them. But Joseph said, 
" Come near me, I pray you ! I am Joseph, your 
brother, whom ye sold into Egypt. Be not grieved, 
nor angry with yourselves that ye sold me hither. 
For God did send me before you to preserve life. 
Haste ye, go up to my father and say unto him, 
' Thus saith thy son Joseph. God hath made me 
lord of all Egypt. Come down to dwell in the 
land of Goshen.' : Then he kissed his brother 
Benjamin, and Benjamin kissed him. 



JOSEPH. 41 

When the brethren came to Canaan and told 
Jacob that Joseph was yet alive, and governor of 
all the land of Egypt, Jacob could not believe it. 
Nor would he believe it until he saw all the wagons 
Joseph sent to fetch him and his household into 
Egypt, and then he said, "It is enough. Joseph, 
my son, is yet alive. I will go and see him before 
I die." 

So Jacob came into Egypt, into the land of 
Goshen, and there Joseph maintained him in great 
honor all his days. Jacob was led before Pharaoh 
and blessed him ; and when he lay upon his death- 
bed, he blessed the two sons of Joseph, Ephraim 
and Manasseh. Jacob would not be buried in 
Egypt, but in the land of Canaan. 

Joseph lived to be very old, and until the day of 
his death kept his power in Egypt. He dealt 
kindly with his brothers, and they continued to 
dwell in Goshen. When Joseph died, he was 
buried in the land of Egypt. 



MOSES. 



THE labor in the fields was over for the 
day, and the tired Hebrew people were 
passing from the stubble-fields on the far 
outskirts of Thebes, where they worked, to the 
low, rough cottages of mud near the river. It was 
but a few minutes after sunset, and yet the soft 
blue darkness of Egypt lay over the land, and the 
Nile rippled in cool plashes, after the heat of the 
day. 

Down near the river's brink, among the tall 
bulrushes, a woman and a little girl knelt together, 
working busily. The child's thick black curls fell 
down over her brown bare shoulders, and her 
hands rapidly plaited the bulrushes together. The 
mother was shaping a little frame of withes. 

" I saw the pharaoh to-day," said the little 
Miriam, as she bent to pull a fresh rush. "He 
looked like a god, riding in his chariot down the 
streets of Oph." 

" The pharaoh is a man, as other men are," said 
Jochebed, the mother, reprovingly. " The true 
God, Jehovah, hath no image. This pharaoh 

42 



MOSES. 43 

destroys us with his hardness of heart. Are we 
locusts eating up his land, that he thus decrees the 
death of our men-children ? Nay, rather our la- 
bor in the fields making brick, piles up his gold, 
and yet he would kill us." 

A crocodile bellowed up the river. Miriam 
shuddered. " Oh, mother," she whispered, as she 
smoothed the plait of rushes, " I fear to have my 
brother float out upon the water. The great cay- 
men may devour him." 

" Or the sword of the Egyptian smite him upon 
the land," replied Jochebed, bitterly, and she 
rapidly bound the plait of rushes to the withes, 
and covered the little ark with a slimy pitch, to 
make it water-tight. " The child is three moons 
old, and Rachel can hide him no longer. Every 
day my heart is pierced by the arrows of fear, 
lest he be made way with. Every day my hands 
refuse their work because I long for the child. 
Nay, we will have the end. Some good Egyptian 
woman may find the babe, floating at the water- 
gate of her garden, and in her pity save him. 
To-morrow, when the hour comes for the bath of 
these Egyptian women in the Nile flood, you shall 
set the ark afloat, Miriam. I must then be at my 
work in the fields. May the great Jehovah guide 
it," sighed the poor mother. 

At last the ark was finished, and hiding it care- 



44 MOSES. 

fully, the child clasped the mother's hand, and they 
slipped timidly in and out among the huts, until 
they reached their own. 

In the morning early, with the first sunbeams, 
the Hebrews went forth to their labors. Jochebed 
followed Amram her husband, but Miriam did not 
go. She waited till silence reigned over the home- 
quarter, and then, lifting her sleeping brother, she 
fled to the water-side. 

It was a beautiful, sunny day. The Nile mir- 
rored the splendid blue of the sky in its waters, 
the grasses whispered, and Miriam, with the baby 
held tight in her arms, looked wistfully toward 
Thebes. Far down the river she saw the pharaoh's 
palace, and she wondered, as she stood there, who 
would save her brother. Raising the sheltering 
linen from his baby face, she tenderly kissed his 
rosy lips and silken curls. 

" Why should the pharaoh kill such an one as 
thou ? " she murmured rebelliously. " He hath no 
fairer in all his palace ! " 

Then she drew forth the ark and laid the baby 
in it ; and, lest the sun should make him suffer, 
arranged above his head the curtains of fine blue 
linen. When all was ready, Miriam set the ark 
afloat upon the water. At first she did not push 
it off, but, clinging to it with one hand, looked 
anxiously up and down the river. 




Moses in the Bulrushes. 



From i he painting by Delaroche. 



MOSES. 47 

There were few boats in that quarter, up among 
the brick-fields of the Hebrews, but still Miriam 
lingered. It was hard to let the little brother float 
out upon that wide blue water. At length the 
current caught the ark, and swung it slowly about, 
when suddenly it slipped from Miriam's fingers 
and started down in the direction of Thebes. She 
watched it go, the helpless sleeping baby lying 
within it, and her heart cried out. " I cannot let 
him go alone/' she sobbed, running along the 
bank; " I must follow him." 

In the garden of the palace of the pharaoh at 
Thebes, there was much laughing and chattering. 
The princess, with her maidens, was going down to 
the Nile to bathe. The pharaoh's daughter was tall 
and fair to behold. Her thick hair was braided 
into many fine soft braids falling straight to 
both shoulders, and she wore a robe of finest 
linen. Behind her an Ethiopian slave, black as 
ebony, carried an enormous fan of snowy ostrich- 
feathers, which, casting its shadow upon her, kept 
the sun from burning her. Her dancing girls and 
maidens, and a troop of slaves went with her, 
and they were all merry together. The gates that 
opened from the garden to the river were flung 
wide, and the princess walked down to an open- 
ing between the bulrushes. The clear water rip- 
pled in toward her dainty feet ; she stood watch- 



48 MOSES. 

ing the sunlight on the wavelets, when suddenly 
her eye rested upon a strange-looking little ark, 
caught out among the bulrushes, and rising and 
falling as gently as if the Nile were rocking a 
cradle. She clapped her hands. " Satou," she 
cried eagerly, " Satou, bring hither that strange 
basket to me. What thing can it hide ? ' : 

Satou, her little golden-haired slave-girl, waded 
out into the water, and drew the ark to shore. 
They all knelt round it, a curious crowd, while the 
princess drew aside the curtains. The bright 
light wakened the sleeping baby, and stretching 
up his tiny dimpled arms, he began to cry. The 
princess drew back and looked down at him dis- 
dainfully. " The child of a Hebrew ! ' she said, 
and the smile faded from her face. The baby was 

%i 

rosy and beautiful, fresh from his sleep, and pres- 
ently as she looked at him, his wailing ceased. 
He lifted his soft black eyes to her, the little arms 
stretched pleadingly, and a lovely smile overspread 
his face. The princess stooped and lifted him, and 
the helpless baby arms linked themselves around 
her neck. 

Holding him thus, she turned to her handmaid- 
ens. " He shall not die. I have said it," she 
announced haughtily, half ashamed of her own 
weakness. " He is more beautiful than the lotus. 
Behold, I make him my own. As my son, he shall 



MOSES. 49 

dwell in the palace. But who will rear the 
child?" 

No willing hand reached for the baby. The 
Egyptian maidens stood coldly by, and one said, 
" Yonder in the reeds lurks an Hebrew maiden. Ask 
her." Miriam hurried forward, and falling at the 
princess's feet, cried, u I know a woman of our 
people who would be glad to nurse him. ,, 

" Go," said the princess, thoughtfully, " fetch her 
to me." 

Miriam, singing psalms of thanksgiving in her 
heart, rushed to the brick-fields, and there sought 
her mother. 

Jochebed with beating heart hurried to the gar- 
den and found the baby lying in his foster mother's 
lap. Trembling greatly, she threw herself upon 
her face before the princess. The Pharaoh's daugh- 
ter felt her heart stir with pity. She guessed whose 
the child might be, and knew but one way to save 
him. 

" Take him to thy hut," she said, " and nurse 
him for me. Bring me news of him once in a 
moon. I will pay thee wage, and when he is 
grown, he shall be mine." 

Jochebed was glad enough to accept any con- 
dition which would lay her baby again within her 
arms. 

" Whenever thou demandest, I will yield him/' 



50 MOSES. 

she said humbly, and then they left the garden 
and hastened to the low mud hut near the brick- 
fields, by the Nile. 

There Moses grew, reared with his brothers and 
Miriam. He grew tall, and straight as an arrow, 
with thick black curls, and a cheek as delicately 
tinted as the rose flush on a pomegranate. 

When he was fourteen years old the princess 
said to Jochebed, " Bring the lad to me. I will 
behold if he be fair enough to be my son. He 
shall be my son Moses, for I drew him out of the 
water." 

There was wailing and lamentation in the hut 
of Amram when Jochebed put upon her son the 
Egyptian garments which the princess sent to him, 
while her chariot stood waiting for him at the 
door. 

" Do not forget us," wailed the mother, " nor 
the blood of thy race. Lo, thou goest to an 
heathen palace, while thy people are slaves in the 
pharaoh's fields. Forget not Jehovah when they 
teach thee of their idols ; and let not her who will 
call thee son, rend thee from the heart of thy 
mother." 

The simple, beautiful Hebrew lad stepped into 
the chariot, and was taken before the princess. 
She was sitting upon a throne of beaten gold, with 
maidens near her, playing soft and lulling music 



MOSES. 51 

upon harps, which they rested upon one knee. A 
cool fountain dripped murmuringly. In vases of 
priceless value, flowers breathed their odors upon 
the air. 

Moses, fresh from the lowly life of the slave's 
hut, stood unawed in the midst of this lofty 
splendor. The princess looked down on his boyish 
beauty, and her dark eyes glowed. u His face is 
fairer than the fairest of the Egyptians/' she cried 
softly, " and he is mine." 

So Moses lived in the palace of the pharaoh, and 
learned all the art and all the wisdom of the 
Egyptians, and wore fine linen every day. He 
grew very strong and powerful of arm, and could 
ride in a chariot, guiding six horses, with the reins 
girded about his waist. Sometimes he saw the 
great pharaoh face to face, and his heart swelled 
within him as he thought of the wrongs of his 
people. For he never forgot the brick-fields, nor 
the lowly hut of his mother. Jehovah, his God, 
was always in his heart, and his lips curled in 
proud scorn when he heard of Isis and Osiris, and 
the other gods whom the Egyptians worshiped. 

Manhood came upon him, and found him grave 
and stately. He was sad, but strong of face, and 
one day he went to the princess and said, " Be- 
hold, I have never returned to the brick-fields nor 
sought out the hut of my parents. That was thy 



52 MOSES. 

desire, and the fullest obedience hath been given 
thee. Now I am a man. Take back, I pray thee, 
thy command. I would look upon the faces of my 
own kindred." 

The princess thought, " Surely he will not leave 
the walls of the pharaoh's palace to cast his lot with 
a horde of Hebrew slaves, toiling under the lash of 
their taskmasters." So she replied, " Go. Hence- 
forth thou mayst go wherever thou wilt." 

Moses left the great palace of Oph and crossed 
the river into Thebes. Taking a chariot, he drove 
far out, and came at length to the waste places 
where the Hebrews built their mud huts. Search- 
ing out his father's, he found it gone, for Amram 
had moved to another place. The sun of midday 
burned fiercely upon him as he walked with great 
strides out into the brick-fields, and there he saw 
his kindred bending beneath their burdens, while 
the taskmasters of the pharaoh laid heavy scourges 
upon their bleeding shoulders. 

While Moses stood watching, a young lad of his 
own age passed him, bearing upon his shoulders 
a yoke so overladen with bricks that his slender 
body bent almost double as he strove to carry it. 
The sunshine beat pitilessly upon him, and Moses 
watched him with sorrowful eyes. Presently he 
stumbled, and the Egyptian taskmaster walking 
behind him struck his naked shoulders with a 



MOSES. 53 

reed which inflicted a stinging blow, and a long 
red weal lay over the boy's back. 

With a furious stride Moses reached the task- 
master, and putting forth all his strength, struck 
him a terrible blow. The man dropped dead upon 
the sand, while the Jewish lad, seeing a tall, noble- 
looking Egyptian strike one of his own people, 
slipped his yoke and fled in terror. Moses, cover- 
ing the dead man with sand, went back to the 
palace. 

He flung himself down beside a fountain, and 
in bitterness of heart thought over all the suffer- 
ings of his people. Next day he went again to the 
brick-fields. He wandered about, observing the 
labor and looking for his brethren, and presently 
saw two Jewish lads who were bearing jars of 
Nile mud upon their shoulders, quarreling fiercely. 
One struck the other. 

" Alas," thought the tall, sad-looking youth 
wearing the linen of the king, yet with a face 
like these toilers, " is not their lot hard enough 
but that they quarrel with one another?" and 
stretching out his hand he said, " Why smitest 
thou thy fellow?" 

Both quarrelers turned fiercely upon him. They 
eyed with disfavor his princely dress. The lad 
who was to blame spoke up angrily and said, 
" Who made thee a prince and a judge over us ? 



54 MOSES. 

Thinkest thou to kill me as thou didst kill the 
Egyptian ? " 

Then Moses said no more, but hastened home. 
He had scarcely entered the palace ere a servant 
met him, with a summons from the princess. 

She looked sorrowfully upon him, for she loved 
him well, and said, " So, thou hast been to the 
brick-fields and there killed a taskmaster ? Is 
blood then so much stronger with thee than love ? 
See now, thou hast brought shame upon me. The 
pharaoh has heard of this deed of thine, and swears 
to slay thee ere sunset. Thou must flee far from 
me, and mine eyes shall never again behold thee." 
And she wept sorely. Moses wept also, and clung 
to her ; but she sent him away, and he fled through 
the streets of Thebes and of Oph, and far out into 
the land of Midian. 

II. 

Moses settled down and dwelt in the peaceful 
land of Midian, and there he married a wife, 
Zipporah, and with his father-in-law Jethro 
tended their flocks. He rarely spoke of Egypt 
or his brethren, but grew to be a silent man of 
few and simple words. In height he was tall and 
commanding, and his beard flowed down to his 
waist, for many years had passed over his head. 

One day he led his flock far away from the 



MOSES. 55 

others, across a desert place to the slope of Mount 
Horeb, where the herbage was rich and green. He 
sat down at midday in the shadow of a bush, and 
the flocks wandered from him, grazing quietly. 
Presently, as his eyes rested upon the bush, it 
began to burn with clear golden flames, the fire 
licking the branches noiselessly, while the bush 
standing, as it were, veiled in it, was not consumed. 

Then while Moses watched, with frightened eyes, 
the voice of God spoke to him out of the burning 
bush and told him to go back to Egypt, where his 
people were in bondage, and rescue them, and lead 
them to the land of Canaan which God would give 
them to be their own. 

Now Moses, living so long away from his people, 
and being a man of slow tongue, feared they would 
not listen to him, and God reproved him. First He 
told him to cast his shepherd's rod upon the ground, 
and when he did so, it became a serpent of so horrid 
a form that Moses fled from it. Then God told him 
to take it by the tail, and it became once more a 
rod. By this and other signs God showed him 
what power he might gain through obedience. 
Then God said : " Is not Aaron the Levite thy 
brother? I know that he can speak well." So 
God promised Moses that Aaron, his brother, should 
come out from Egypt to meet him, and He him- 
self would guide the thoughts of Moses, who 



56 MOSES. 

should teach Aaron what to say, and God would 
put words of eloquence into Aaron's mouth to stir 
up the people. 

Moses took his family and went into Egypt, and 
as God had promised, Aaron came out to meet 
him. The two brothers, thus brought together 
again, embraced each other and journeyed along 
till once more Moses beheld the shining blue Nile, 
and the sunlight pouring down over Thebes. 

The pharaoh of Moses' boyhood was dead, and 
his foster mother also. The pharaoh who now 
reigned in Egypt was haughty and hard of heart. 
Moses and Aaron went together to the elders of 
Israel, and stirred them up mightily with the 
promise of God, that they should be led far away 
/to a land of their own. The slavish sullenness 
dropped from their lives. The breath of the free 
wandering life of their great father Jacob came 
again to them. They left their brick-making and 
once more built altars of thanksgiving and sac- 
rifice to God. 

Moses and Aaron went before the pharaoh. Moses 
walked through the familiar corridors of the palace 
his boyhood had known, breathing the scent of the 
lotus, passing the figures of the strange gods. But 
his heart and soul were with his own people. So 
he stood up fearlessly before the pharaoh and said, 
u Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, let my people 



MOSES. 57 

go, that they may hold a feast unto Me in the 
wilderness." 

But Moses only angered the pharaoh, who seeing 
the people losing their slavish obedience, said to 
the taskmasters, " These Hebrews grow idle. 
Give them no more straw wherewith to make 
brick, but let them wander into the stubble-fields 
and find straw for themselves.' ' 

When this order was made known to the Hebrew 
people, they cried out under the oppression, and God 
said to Moses, " Now shalt thou see what I will do 
to the pharaoh. For with a strong hand shall he 
let the people go, and with a strong hand shall 
he drive them out of the land/' 

Then Moses and Aaron went before the pha- 
raoh again, and with his rod Moses did marvelous 
things. Plagues of hail, and terrible boils came 
upon Thebes. The river became blood, a pestilence 
of loathsome frogs poured over the city, the dust 
swarmed with lice, a plague of flies, and a disease 
of the beasts warned the Egyptians of the power 
of Israel's God, and still the pharaoh would not let 
the people go. Then came a pestilence of locusts, 
and an awful visitation of darkness — a darkness 
which might be felt, and yet the pharaoh would 
not let the people go. 

Now came the last plague, for God sent Az- 
rael, the terrible Angel of Death, who swept over 



58 MOSES. 

Thebes and Oph, and in every house where the 
blood of a lamb was not sprinkled upon the door- 
post and lintels, the first-born died. For God, by 
Moses, ordered all the Hebrews to sacrifice a lamb, 
and strike its blood upon the lintels and the door- 
posts, that the Angel of Death might pass over 
them. This they did, and ate unleavened bread as 
they were commanded. When the first-born died, 
the pharaoh was smitten with sorrow, and he was 
filled with desire to get rid of these people, and all 
the Egyptians shared his wish. They gave gold 
and jewels of great value to the Israelites. 

The brick-fields of the Nile now saw a great up- 
rising. Like the sands of the seashore were these 
Hebrews for multitude, and they fled together 
eastward to the Red Sea's border, carrying the 
bones of Joseph with them. 

As a wave that rolls over the land, they fled from 
the borders of Thebes ; and the pharaoh, riding 
forth, saw the great waste of the brick-fields with, 
the deserted mud huts and the piles of half-baked 
bricks. He missed the sight of the busy labor and 
its gains, and calling for horsemen and chariots, he 
started in hot pursuit of the Hebrews. 

They were tired from their forced traveling; and 
having been slaves for so long, they missed even 
the yoke of their bondage. When they saw the 
pharaoh' s chariots approaching, slavish cowardice 



MOSES. 59 

overcame them, and they cried out to Moses, " Are 
there no graves in Egypt, that thou hast brought 
us out here to die in the wilderness V' 

For the Red Sea lay before them, and they had 
no boats to cross it, and they believed in the power 
of the pharaoh to slay them, rather than in the 
power of God through Moses to save them. But 
Moses stretched forth his hand over the Red Sea, 
and its waters were divided, leaving the ground 
dry between them. Then with a shout the host 
of Israel crossed over to the other side, and as the 
last one passed to the opposite shore, the pharaoh 
and his horsemen dashed up. They, too, plunged 
into the pathway between the waters, and as they 
were midway, the waters closed suddenly above 
their heads with a mighty roar, and they were 
drowned. Horse and rider, every one. perished 
in the flood, even the pharaoh himself. So God 
delivered His people, Israel, by the hand of Moses, 
according to His promise, and they set their faces 
toward the land of Canaan. 

III. 

Along the path from the well a little Hebrew 
girl paced slowly, bearing her water-jar. Around 
her lay the peaceful plain of Sinai dotted with 
tents, the cattle quietly grazing, and the sunlight 



60 MOSES. 

lying over all. Beyond, in the distance, rose 
the Mount of Sinai, and toward its summit the 
little maid's eyes turned wistfully. She wended 
her way toward a group of tents lying apart, where 
the household of Moses dwelt. Seeking out the 
largest, she silently placed her water-bottle before 
an old woman who sat cowering over a fire. 
The old woman looked up, and her eyes softened 
as they fell upon the little handmaid. 

" Thou and I are here alone in the tents of the 
household of Moses," she said sadly. " None 
are true but the old Rachel and the little hand- 
maid, Tirzah. Zipporah, too, must even see that 
golden calf ! Tell me, child, for because of mine 
age mine eyes are dim, does a cloud rest upon 
Sinai to-day?" 

Tirzah went to the tent door and looked upon 
Sinai's summit. " The cloud lies there," she 
said, u but I think it lifts a little. Rachel, why 
does not Moses return ? Is he gone from us back 
to Egypt, as the people say, or does he talk yet 
with God upon the mountain ? " 

u How canst thou doubt ?' : grumbled the old 
woman. " But thou art of the land of Midian. 
Thou didst riot see the wonders of the plagues, 
the great walls of the Red Sea's waters as we 
passed over, nor didst thou hear the roar of the 
flood when it closed over the pharaoh." 



MOSES. 61 

"Nay, but thou hast often told me," said little 
Tirzah, softly. 

" Saidst thou the cloud lifted a little ? ' con- 
tinued the old woman. " Come, child, let us go 
hence. We, too, will look upon that golden calf 
in the midst of the plain.' ' 

Tirzah wondered why at last Rachel would look 
on this heathen idol, which Aaron had made of 
the gold ornaments of the Hebrews ; but she 
ran along obediently by the old woman's side, 
listening to the story of the burning bush, and 
the wicked pharaoh, till suddenly she cried, 
" Look, Rachel ! A golden cloud like the glory of 
heaven is lifting from Sinai." 

" Then hurry," cried Rachel, " lest we be too 
late ! ' A sound of loud singing fell upon their 
ears, followed by the clash of cymbals. Soon 
they reached the outskirts of a crowd, swaying to 
and fro and dancing in wild circles about a hideous 
calf of gold mounted high upon a pedestal, and 
Tirzah clung in fright to Rachel's skirts. 

Rachel seated herself upon a hillock apart, and 
drawing Tirzah down by her side, said, " Watch 
the mountain slope for Moses, thy master; for, 
as the cloud lifted from the mountain, so God 
restores him to the people. They in their rioting 
saw not the sign." 

Tirzah watched, and soon, down the mountain 



62 MOSES. 

side, she saw a figure descending. It was the 
figure of a man, tall, majestic, and imposing. 
His ample linen garments fell about him in 
swinging folds, as, clasping two tablets of stone, 
he hastened toward the plain. Beside him walked 
another figure, younger and more elastic in his 
stride. 

" 'Tis Moses," cried Tirzah, joyfully, "and 
Joshua ! ' Along a winding foot-path they de- 
scended, till, reaching the hillock near Rachel and 
Tirzah, Moses paused, standing motionless, his 
arms, clasping the tablets, folded over his breast. 
Tirzah watched his face gathering wrath, as his 
eye swept over the whirling, shouting dancers. 
He started directly into their midst, and they parted 
right and left to let him pass. The clashing of 
cymbals ceased, and the silence of death fell upon 
them, till one could hear the sweep of the wind 
upon the trees of the mountain side. 

Then Tirzah heard the sonorous voice of Moses 
speaking to the people, and at last high above 
his head he held the tables of stone before he flung 
them from him with a mighty crash. They broke 
in pieces, and with them was destroyed all God's 
law which He had given to Moses upon the mount. 

Next he laid his hands upon the golden calf, 
and wrenching it loose, swung it into the fire. 

" Oh ! ' cried Tirzah, terror-stricken, " I fear to 




Moses. 



Statue by Michaelangelo. 



MOSES. 65 

go into the tents this evening, -for his anger will 
utterly consume us." 

But it was not so, for when the little hand- 
maid of Zipporah served him at supper, he looked 
kindly upon her, and spoke gentle words to her. 
Next morning he went once more up into the 
mountain, and the cloud of God rested upon it. 
This time, when he returned with other tablets 
of God's commandments, he did not break them 
in pieces, but put them reverently into the Ark 
of the Covenant, to be a law to all the people ; 
and the second time when he came among them 
he found no golden idol, and his face shone. Such 
a glory of light shone from his face that Tirzah 
fell upon her knees and hid hers. 

After that the tents were struck, and the wan- 
dering in the desert began again. It lasted in all, 
forty years, and Tirzah was grown to be a tall 
woman with children of her own, when at last the 
Israelites came out of the wilderness near to the river 
Jordan, and to the promised land of Canaan. Now 
Tirzah's daughter Mahlah was handmaid to Zip- 
porah, and old Rachel was gathered to her fathers. 

The country near the river Jordan was very 
beautiful and set about with lofty mountains, and 
the spies who came in from Canaan reported it to 
be a land flowing with milk and honey. 

It was sunset, and the day's inarch being over, 



66 MOSES. 

Moses rested in the door of the tent, and Mahlah 
served him. His hair and his beard were white as 
snow, and his eye shone with tender kindness. 

" Go," said he to Mahlah, "and summon to me 
Joshua." 

When Joshua came, Moses said, " My last words 
have been spoken to the people, for I am an old 
man, one hundred and twenty years old, and now 
let me lay my hands upon thee, and the spirit of 
God will come upon thee, and thou shalt lead the 
people into Canaan, whither I cannot go." 

Then he blessed Joshua, and called all his chil- 
dren and household about him and blessed them, 
and said, " God hath commanded me to go up into 
Mount Nebo to view the promised land, and when 
I go thence, look not to see me return, because I 
cannot go into Canaan, for that I sinned at the 
smitten rock, whence I gave you water to drink in 
the wilderness." 

And so he left them in the twilight, and climbed 
into Mount Nebo when the white stars shone down 
upon it. All the camp saw Moses go, and watched 
the tall, majestic figure, toiling alone up the steep, 
his staff in his hand. And Tirzah watched him 
till her eyes grew dim with tears, remembering, as 
she did, that morning at the foot of Sinai, when 
she had watched him ascending that other moun- 
tain to bring to them the laws of God. 



MOSES. 67 

She slept but ill that night, thinking of the old 
man alone upon Nebo, and with the first beam of 
dawn she crept from her tent, and hurried out 
toward the mountain. Watching behind some 
bushes, she gazed up toward the summit, and as 
the golden sun rays touched it with the glory of 
the fresh-born morning, she saw, standing upon the 
mountain's brow, the stately figure of Moses. He 
looked abroad over the fair, wide land of Canaan, 
toward which he had led his people for forty years. 
It was the same proud and noble pose as of the 
boy Moses, when, back in the land of Egypt, he 
had stood for the first time before the daughter of 
the pharaoh. 

As Tirzah looked, a misty cloud gathered in the 
blue sky above him and slowly descended. It 
rolled in fleecy folds about the mountain-top, and 
hid from view forever that lofty form. When 
Moses did not return, all Israel mourned for him 
thirty days; and then Joshua arose to lead them, 
and they followed him over the river Jordan and 
up to Jericho. 

On the day when the walls of Jericho fell, and the 
people were pouring into the city, delighted with the 
joy of possession, Tirzah stood, looking backward 
toward the desert, and thinking of the sad, clear eyes 
on Nebo's top which had beheld this blessing only 
from afar, and whose burial was hid with God. 



PRINCE SIDDARTHA. 

FAR away in the land of India, the great snow- 
capped Himalayas lift their summits into a 
sky of deepest blue. The plains and valleys 
are strewn with blossoming gardens. In this far- 
away land, once upon a time, lay a little kingdom 
crossed by a silver-flowing river. 

Over it ruled King Suddhodana and Queen Maya, 
and on a beautiful summer's day the people of the 
chief city were told to keep holiday. A little 
prince had been born in the palace, a baby kmg 
for the people to love and reverence, and his 
father and mother named him Siddartha. 

The streets were strewn with rose leaves, and the 
people sang and danced and went wild with joy. 
Sword-players and jugglers did their wonderful 
tricks, tiger tamers with their dangerous beasts 
displayed them on the streets, drums beat, and 
music filled the air. 

From other kingdoms came merchants bearing 
rich presents to the little helpless sleeping baby, 
lying in his soft silken nest up in the palace, and 
knowing nothing of all the joy his birth had 
caused. 

68 



PEINCE SIDDAKTHA. 69 

Many of the visitors who came to the palace 
asked to see the baby prince, and among them was 
Asita, a holy man in a long gray robe. He came 
from a cave far up in the hills, where he sat alone 
and thought of God. When the king and the 
queen saw him, they tried to prevent him from 
kneeling to the babe as all others had done. The 
queen said gently that it would be more fitting to 
lay the babe at the holy man's feet. Asita would 
not have it so. Bowing before the child eight 
times with his face on the earth, the holy man read 
his future. He said, "This child is Buddha. He 
is sent of God from Heaven to the people to bless 
them and show God's perfect law to them." 
Hearing these words King Suddhodana was afraid, 
but little Siddartha, all unconscious, slumbered 
peacefully. 

Queen Maya had not long to love her pretty 
baby, for seven days after he was born she died, 
and the little prince had a foster mother to bring 
him up. When he reached eight years, his father 
thought that Siddartha was now old enough to 
have teachers, and be instructed in all the deep 
and wonderful Indian learning. 

Calling his council of wise men together one 
day, they selected the wisest man in the kingdom, 
Viswamitra, to teach the prince. 

Viswamitra was an a^ed man, whose beard of 



70 PEINCE SIDDABTHA. 

snow flowed down to his waist, and his dark eyes 
glowed with the deep and strange learning he had 
acquired through many weary years. Sitting in a 
great chair beside a cooling fountain, he waited for 
little Siddartha. Presently the prince came, a tall, 
straight boy, clothed in soft blue linen, with a broad 
belt of silver around his slender waist. Locks of 
curling silken hair fell about a face so beautiful 
and simple and childlike in its expression, that he 
seemed like a baby standing at the knee of Vis- 
wamitra and awaiting his commands. 

Little Siddartha was to write upon a slate of 
ox-red sandalwood, made smooth as satin with 
emery dust and framed in precious stones. The 
old man gave him the slate, and began gently and 
slowly to dictate a sentence such as a child might 
understand and learn to write, when to his sur- 
prise Siddartha took the slate and wrote upon it 
all that Viswamitra gave and much more, writing 
better and clearer than the wise man could 
himself. When Viswamitra saw this, he caught 
the slate from Siddartha's hand, saying, "I can- 
not teach thee writing. Let us to number." 

So the slate was laid aside, and Viswamitra 
commanded the boy to count slowly after him. 
They began together, but by and by Siddartha, 
noting a pause in Viswamitra's voice, went on 
alone, showing such knowledge of number that the 



PRINCE SIDDARTHA. 71 

wise man listened with bent head. At length, as 
the prince continued, he rose and flung himself 
upon his face as Asita had done, crying, u Prince, 
thou knowest all that it is given mankind to 
know ; thou art a teacher of thy teachers, but 
thou art besides an obedient, reverent boy." 

Siddartha was always that, a soft-mannered, 
tender-hearted bov, vet in all his father's court 
there was no more fearless horseman, no bolder 
chariot driver than Siddartha became. In many a 
chase, however, so pitiful was the boy, that when 
he overtook the deer and the shy gazelle, rather 
than shed their blood, he let them go, and his com- 
panions looked on and wondered. His chief com- 
panion and playmate was his cousin Devadetta. 

One day the two lads strolled together in the 
palace garden. It was early spring, and soft and 
tender new life lay spread about them. Siddartha 
now was grown to be a tall, strong lad, and he 
wore upon this day a tunic of snowy linen belted 
with a crimson sash. Devadetta, wearing scarlet 
silk, strolled beside him, his quiver at his side 
and over his back his bow. In his hand he held 
a long arrow. Devadetta' s face was dark and 
strong, his eye flashing like the eagle's, and 
his restless hand carrying the arrow, slashed off 
the flower heads as he passed, while the soft and 
slender hand of Siddartha caressed them. 



72 PEINCE SIDDARTHA. 

The earth was white with blossoms, the sky 
a sun-swept blue, and as the boys lifted their 
eyes toward it, they saw a flock of snow- 
white swans, voyaging north to their nests upon 
the Himalaya slopes. A broad-winged, noble 
bird was leading the way. Swift as the thought 
Devadetta's arrow was fitted to the bow, the cord 
twanged, and through the scented air the long 
shaft cut its way, reaching with cruel art the 
soft breast of the pilot bird. The broad wings 
drooped, and down into the garden dropped the 
wounded creature, the bitter arrow in its bleeding 
breast, the scarlet of its blood staining its snowy 
plumes. 

Devadetta, seeing the bird fall, turned from it 
with a shrug of his shoulders ; hitting it was all 
he had cared for ; his pride being satisfied, the 
swan might die unheeded. 

Not so Siddartha. Seeing the swan fall, he 
ran and gathered it upon his lap, sitting with 
crossed knees, and soothed its wild fright with his 
tender, loving hands. The arrow still remained 
in the bird's breast. Gently the boy smoothed 
the ruffled feathers, then by degrees drew forth 
the cruel steel barb and laid cool leaves and heal- 
ing honey on the wound. When the kind hands 
had put the bird to rest, Siddartha, who had never 
himself felt pain, picked up the arrow and pressed 






PEINCE SIDDAETHA. 73 

it closely to his wrist, and winced when he felt its 
sting. Tears dimmed his soft eyes with this new 
knowledge of the creature's pain, and he bent 
tenderly over the swan with doubled pity for its 
past and present suffering. 

Meanwhile Devadetta had returned to the pal- 
ace, when thinking suddenly how r well the swan's 
feathers would serve to trim his arrows, he sent 
a servant to the gardens to bring it to him. 

The servant found Siddartha still tending the 
wounded bird, and gave Devadetta' s message. 
Siddartha raised his great eyes, and with his hand 
caressing the swan's neck, said, " Tell my Lord 
Devadetta this from the Prince Siddartha, ' To send 
a dead bird to its slayer would be well. He meant 
to bring the bird to death by his arrow. I have 
restored the bird to life. The swan is mine.' 

When this answer was brought to Devadetta he 
ran angrily down the garden terraces and came to 
Siddartha. " The bird is mine ! ' he cried. " Up 
there in the blue he belonged to no one, but my 
arrow brought him to thy feet. Living or dead, 
the bird belongs to me." 

Siddartha arose and laying the bird's soft feathers 
against his cheek said, "Nay, Devadetta, the bird is 
mine. If thou dispute it, let us submit it to the 
council." 

The question was submitted to the council of 



74 PKINCE SIDDAKTHA. 

wise and learned Indian priests who argued it 
a long time, until at length up rose an unknown 
priest clothed in snowy white, who said, " Prince 
Devadetta sent the bird to death ; the Prince 
Siddartha gave him life ; who saves a life is 
greater than he who destroys one. Give Siddartha 
the bird." This judgment was declared just, but 
when King Suddhodana sent to the hall to do 
honor to the priest, he was gone, and some one saw 
a white-hooded snake crawling off among the rose- 
bushes. Then they believed the priest to have been 
a god ; for sometimes the gods thus visited the earth. 

One day in later springtime the king called Sid- 
dartha to him and said, " Son, thou hast never left 
the palace gardens nor its gates. To-day I shall 
take thee to see the land where thou shalt reign 
when I am gone, and thou art become king in my 
place. 'Tis a beautiful land. Feed the people 
well ; but keep thy gold chests full." 

Then they rode abroad, and Siddartha saw the 
red-coated oxen straining their strong shoulders in 
the heavy yokes, as they dragged the plow across 
the fields. He saw the sowers in the furrowed 
fields, flinging their seeds. He saw sunbirds and 
purple butterflies, striped squirrels and broad-tailed 
peacocks, and all the air was sweet with the scent 
of flowers and with the cooing love-songs of blue 
doves. 



PEINCE SIDDARTHA. 75 

But Siddartha s eyes saw more ; he saw, behind 
the oxen, the poor man toiling under the hot sun, 
with drops of sweat pouring down his weary face. 
He watched the oxen as the great ox goad cut their 
straining velvet flanks. Then he marked how the 
lizard ate the ant, the snake ate the lizard, and 
the kite fed on both. The fish-hawk, dashing 
through the air, robbed the fish tiger of the prey in 
its mouth. The shrike chased the nightingale. 
The nightingale chased the purple butterflies. 

Prince Siddartha was filled with sadness at see- 
ing the bright world one long struggle of life and 
death, and pity stirred his heart. The king, rid- 
ing by his side, noted nothing of all this. u What 
think you -of your kingdom?" he cried. "Is it 
not wondrous fair?'' 

Siddartha answered, " Father, I am weary. Let 
me rest and think awhile beneath this lemon tree." 
The boy seated himself with ankles crossed, as 
silent as a statue ; and there they sought him at 
eventide with the shadows falling over him. And 
a shadow had fallen on his heart. He had seen 
the sorrow of the world and longed to find a way 
of comfort for all who suffered. After this he was 
pale and sad, and brooded night and day on how 
to make the world better. 

He was now eighteen, and his father, seeing him 
so sad, called a council of wise men to know what 



76 PEINCE SIDDAKTHA. 

to do with Siddartha, and they said, " He is lonely ; 
find him a wife/' Then they made a great feast, 
and all the maidens of the kingdom were invited 
to come to it, and Siddartha was to give them each 
a gift. 

The day came, and in an open place Siddartha 
sat upon a throne, the gifts beside him. So silent 
was he that each maiden, as she passed, feared to 
lift her eyes to him, but seizing her gift, fled shyly 
to her companions. 

At last came a royal maiden with deep, soft, 
glowing eyes. She was the fair Yasodhara. Look- 
ing full upon the prince, she said, " Is there a gift 
for me?" And he looked full at her as he re- 
plied, " The gifts are gone ; yet here," and unclasp- 
ing a chain of emerald from his neck he put it 
about Yasodhara's slim silken waist. 

The king Suddhodana then asked Yasodhara's 
father to give her in marriage to his son. But 
before a prince of India could win a bride, he must 
show himself stronger and fleeter than all his fel- 
lows. Devadetta also had seen Yasodhara, and 
wished very much to wed her. He was glad of 
the law of the games, for he thought in his proud 
heart that it would not be hard to overcome the 
gentle Siddartha. 

Upon the day set for the games came Siddartha, 
riding his snow-white horse, Kantaka, and looking 





•The Gifts are gone; yet Here. 1 



PEINCE SIDDARTHA. 79 

out over the throngs of people with strange, won- 
dering eyes. Then he saw Yasodhara, and leap- 
ing from his horse smiled up at her and cried, 
" He is not worthy of this pearl who is not worthi- 
est ; let my rivals prove if I have dared too much 
in seeking her." 

Prince Nanda challenged for the arrow test. 
He set a brazen drum a long distance off across 
the plain, Arjuna had his drum placed beside 
Prince Nanda' s, and Devadetta's was placed a quar- 
ter of the distance farther bevond, for Devadetta 
was a famous archer. 

The Prince Siddartha bade them place his drum 
so far beyond the others that it shone in the sun- 
light as small as a glistening penny. Nanda drew 
an arrow and pierced his target, and Prince Arjuna 
followed. Then Devadetta, striding forward, strung 
his bow and placed an arrow on both edges of his 
far-distant drum so skillfully that the crowds 
shouted, and Yasodhara dropped her eyes, fearful 
lest she should see Siddartha fail. Prince Siddar- 
tha picked up his bow carelessly and pulled it so 
that it bent together and touched at the ends. It 
was a bow r of cane made strong with copper w r ire, 
and only great strength could bend it. Siddartha 
flung it from him as if it had been a toy. " That 
is for play," he said, laughing softly; "bring me 
the weapon of a man ! " 



80 PEINCE SIDDARTHA. 

" There is none stronger in the kingdom except 
the bow of thy great-grandfather which hangs upon 
the wall of the temple/' they told him. 

" Fetch it to me/' said Siddartha. They brought 
him the bow, wrought of black steel, and Siddartha 
tried it twice across his knee. Handing it to 
Devadetta, he said, " My cousin, shoot with this." 

Devadetta took it, but could not bend it an inch. 
Then Siddartha, bending slightly forward, fitted 
the arrow to its notch and twanged the cord, which 
sent forth a long, vibrating, musical tone. With 
another movement he sent the arrow singing across 
the plain. It struck the center of his brazen drum, 
passed through it, and continued in its flight till 
it was gone from sight. 

Devadetta challenged with the sword and clove 
a palm tree six inches thick. Prince Nan da cut 
through one of seven inches. Prince Arjuna struck 
through one of nine. 

Siddartha, swinging his sword three times about 
his head, suddenly smote a trunk of eighteen 
inches' thickness. His blade flashed through it 
like the lightning's stroke and left the palm tree 
standing. "Ha ! " cried Prince Nanda, "the edge 
of his sword was turned upon the tree ! ' and 
Yasodhara, seeing the tree still standing, trembled 
with fear. But suddenly a little puff of wind 
crossing the plain swayed the broad palm leaves, 



PEINCE SIDDAETHA. 81 

and the tree, cut clean in two, toppled its branches 
over on the ground. 

Prince Siddartha had a snow-white horse, Kan- 
taka, born on the same day as he, and on this 
horse he, with the other princes, raced three times 
around the plain, and Kantaka easily passed the 
other horses. Then Nanda cried, " Bring an un- 
broken horse into the field and see who best can 
back him ! " 

They brought in a wild black horse, led by three 
chains, unshod and unsaddled, with fierce, fiery eyes 
and tossing mane, whom no man yet had ridden. 
Devadetta and Nanda tried to mount him, but were 
flung down into the dust, and they crept away in 
shame. Up came the bold Arjuna, who grasped 
the steed's mane and flung himself upon his back. 
With all his fierce young strength he succeeded in 
keeping himself upon the horse once around the 
plain. Then the beast flung back his head, seized 
Arjuna by the naked foot, dragged him from his 
back, and would have killed him had not the 
grooms interfered and cast the chains upon the 
horse. 

When Siddartha stepped forth a cry rose up 
across the plain, a Do not let the prince ride! 
The horse is a demon ! He will kill him! " But 
Siddartha went softly to the head of the maddened 
beast, laid his tender hand across his eyes, and 



82 PEINCE SIDDARTHA. 

drew it down his face. " Take off his chains/' he 
commanded ; "give me his forelock only." As the 
prince stroked the horse and soothed his fright, he 
suddenly bowed his tossing head and stood there 
quietly. Nor did he stir when Siddartha mounted 
him, but went obediently to rein, and touch of knee, 
three times around the field, till all with one ac- 
claim cried, " Siddartha is best ! ' And so he won 
his wife Yasodhara. 

King Suddhodana knew that old Asita's prophecy 
must come true ; that Siddartha was Buddha, or 
the great god they worshiped in India, born into 
human life again to teach men greater wisdom, and 
to share and pity their sorrows. The king knew 
all this ; but he did not want to lose his beloved 
son. So he thought he would shut him in a palace 
amidst gardens where all was so beautiful that he 
could never hear of nor see sorrow and sin. In this 
palace Siddartha lived with Yasodhara, and all the 
gardens were inclosed by a high wall, whose only 
entrance was barred by triple gates of brass. 

One day Siddartha and Yasodhara sat together 
in the palace, listening to a singing girl called 
Chitra. Her song was all about the world and 
the strange peoples who dwell in it. The prince 
grew restless after this tale, and sent word to the 
king that he must see the city. Then the king 
was afraid. He sent an order throughout the city 



PRINCE SIDDARTHA. 83 

that it should be decked with flowers, that every 
one should wear his holiday clothes and dance and 
be merry, and that no sick nor lame nor blind should 
upon any account be seen upon the streets, for the 
prince would ride forth to visit his people. 

Everything went well at first, and Siddartha 
rode through throngs of happy, smiling people, 
who cried, "Hail, hail ! " to him as he passed, and 
he wondered much at the pleasure and happiness 
which sprang from so many humble homes. Sud- 
denly, out in front of his car, tottered an old and 
trembling man, so thin that the bones showed 
through his flesh, and so old that he staggered, 
as he leaned upon his staff and cried out, lifting up 
his dim, bleared eyes, " Alms, alms ! To-morrow 
I die ! " 

The runners with staves tried to beat him back 
to his hovel, but Siddartha called to Channa, 
his charioteer, " Stop, Channa ! Such a man as 
this I never saw before. What ails this man ? 
Are there others like him ? Why is he thus, so 
terrible to behold ! " 

Channa replied, " My prince, this man is simply 
grown old. Once he was a laughing child ; then a 
youth as thou art; but now the years have stolen 
away his life, and he is as you see." 

Siddartha repeated, "Are there others like 
him ? " 



84 PRINCE SIDDARTHA. 

"Yes," said Channa, "all that live grow to be 
like him." 

"And shall I?" asked Siddartha, "and Yasod- 
hara ? " 

"Yes,' said Channa, "all the world becomes 
like this." 

"Turn home," commanded Siddartha, "I have 
seen that I had not thought to see." 

That night he could neither eat nor sleep for 
thinking of old age. Over and over again the 
thought repeated itself, " Every one must grow 
old and suffer pain." He rose and sent to King 
Suddhodana, and said, " My visit to the world 
yesterday was a festival. To-day, in merchant's 
dress, Channa and I will go forth alone and see 
things as they are." 

The king sorrowfully gave consent, and Channa 
and Siddartha set forth together early in the 
morning, and wandered abroad all day. Then 
was unfolded to the prince's sorrowing eyes the 
sin, disease, and sufferings of the poor ; the many, 
many thousands who thus suffered ; and at last he 
saw a body upon its funeral pile beside the river, 
and learned the mystery of death. 

Seeing all this, the god-soul in Siddartha awoke, 
and he was no longer the gentle prince, but the 
Lord Buddha, ready to perform his mission in the 
world ; to wander forth among the people, sharing 



PEHSTCE SIDDARTHA. 85 

their sorrows and burdens, and teaching the lesson 
that no one should ever willfully destroy life of 
any sort. When he returned to the palace that 
night, so strange a look was on his face that King 
Suddhodana ordered a triple guard of men to be 
placed beside the great brass gates. 

At midnight Siddartha arose, and taking leave 
of the sleeping Yasodhara, softly ordered Channa 
to bring to him, all saddled and bridled, his horse 
Kantaka. Siddartha drew the horse's proud head 
down and whispered in his ear, " Kantaka, to- 
night thou must bear me the farthest journey 
ever steed bore rider ; for this night I shall mount 
thee to go in search of truth, and where that is 
found, no man yet knows." 

He sprang to Kantaka's back, and Channa 
mounted his own horse. behind him, and together 
they rode in silence to the gateway of triple brass. 
When they reached it, the gates whose opening by 
daytime made a noise like heavy thunder, now 
rolled back in magic silence, and both riders 
passed between the sleeping men, unseen and 
unheard. Thus they passed through the inner 
and outer city, and far out into the country. 
Then Siddartha, dismounting, took Kantaka's 
head in his hands, and kissed the horse between 
the eyes. "Farewell to thee, sweet horse," he 
said; " and to thee, my faithful Channa. Lead 



86 PEINCE SIDDAKTHA. 

Kantaka back to my father, and say it is better 
for him, for those I love, and for all the world, 
that I go forth to-night. Tell him I go in search 
of hope, therewith to succor all mankind." 

So Siddartha, the mighty prince, became Lord 
Buddha. He wore a simple yellow robe, begged 
his food from door to door, and always he prayed 
in silence from night till morning, and from morn- 
ing till night again, for help against the sorrow 
of the world. He lived among the lowliest and 
most despised of the people of India. 

One day as he wandered along a road, he saw 
a flock of little mountain sheep and black goats 
driven through the dusty ways by the shouting 
herdsmen. The poor little animals, hungry for 
the wayside grass, tried, as they were driven on, to 
nibble at its tufts. Among the flock was a mother- 
sheep with two young lambs, her twins. One 
lamb had hurt its foot which it dragged bleeding 
through the dust ; the other, gay and merry, 
skipped away among the rest of the herd in con- 
stant danger of getting lost. The troubled mother 
ran this way and that, not willing to leave the 
little suffering lamb, nor to lose her sprightly baby. 
Lord Buddha, standing by the roadside, noted the 
mother's trouble, and with tender pity shining in 
his eyes, lifted the wounded lamb into his arms, 
saying, " Poor woolly mother, be at peace, for I 



PEINCE SIDDABTHA. 87 

will bear and share thy care." Then he asked the 
herdsmen why they were driving their flocks down 
from the mountains at noon. They answered that 
they led them to the temple of the ^ity to be 
slaughtered at a sacrifice which the king of that 
city had ordered. Lord Buddha said, u I will go 
with you"; and he paced along in the dust and 
the heat of noonday, bearing the sick lamb in his 
arms, while its poor mother trotted trustfully at 
his side. 

When they came to the city all stood aside in 
reverence, beholding the goodness and the great- 
ness of Lord Buddha's face ; and at last they 
entered the temple, within which the king stood, 
offering sacrifice. Lord Buddha looked toward 
the great altars where the fires burned, with rills 
of warm red blood flowing round their bases. On 
an altar lay a black-horned goat, its head tied 
back, a priest's knife at its throat. This goat's 
death was supposed to wash away the sin of the 
king. Lord Buddha, standing beside him, said 
softly, " Let the priest withhold his hand, let him 
not strike, king ! ' Then when the king, awed 
by the glory shining in Lord Buddha's face, had 
given the command, Buddha himself went and lifted 
the goat from the altar, untying its bonds. Stand- 
ing thus among the priests, he taught them to 
reverence life and let each creature live out its 



88 PRINCE SIDDARTHA. 

own, so that in that temple no more sacrifices 
were held, but all believed in and worshiped 
Lord Buddha. 

Thus he went from land to land, preaching love 
and pity and reverence for life. And at last he 
came back into Kapilavistu, his own city, and met 
again his father and Yasodhara with his son. And 
they were content to let him go throughout the 
world, blessing, with his teaching and his pity, all 
living creatures. 



THE FIRST BATTLE OF CYRUS THE GREAT. 

THE hot sun was pouring down upon Ecba- 
tana, the capital of the ancient kingdom 
of Media. It was noonday, and the great 
white city, lying on the steep hillsides, seemed 
wrapped in slumber. The city was built upon the 
plan of three circles, one within the other. There 
were the outer city, the middle city, and the inner 
city, inclosed by its gleaming white wall, and built 
upon the summit of the ascent. 

In the heart of the inner city, the gardens and 
palaces of King Astyages lay, kept sacredly apart 
from the bustle of soldiers and common people 
which was seen in the other two sections. 

In the palace all was silence and drowsiness. 
King Astyages slept, and beside lulling fountains 
of falling water, all the wives and dancing-girls and 
slaves of the great king slept also. Only the black 
slaves, bent upon their duties, crept noiselessly 
about the great palace. But as the sun declined, 
and the blue shadows stretched themselves east- 
ward, a stir was noticed in the crowd of slaves lying 
outside the king's door. " The king wants the 



90 FIKST BATTLE OF CYRUS THE GEEAT. 

Prince Cyrus/' passed from lip to lip, and the pal- 
ace was immediately given up to search. 

In its center, in a hall built of gold and marble, 
a circular space, sanded with pure white sand and 
strongly barred, inclosed a fierce lion. The bars, 
though of great strength, were slenderly wrought ; 
and here he who would, might view the king's 
pet. Sometimes the unfortunate who looked upon 
this lion viewed also for the last time the earth 
whereon he had been born. 

The lion lay crouched in the center of the sanded 
space, blinking wearily. Leaning against a marble 
pillar, and gazing thoughtfully upon that caged 
strength, stood a tall, strong, handsome lad. He 
wore the long simple robe of the Persian, without 
embroidery, and made of plain stuff ; and his face, 
eyebrows, and eyelashes showed none of the paint- 
ing and staining which were seen upon every other 
face, whether man's or woman's, in the palace. 
He and the lion looked long into each other's eyes. 

" Thy cage is fine, but thou hatest it," the boy 
murmured to the beast, " and my cage is fine," and 
he looked about at the marble walls of the palace, 
" but I hate it too ! Ah, Lemprius ! ' : as a tall 
black slave suddenly prostrated himself before him. 
" Rise, Lemprius ; what is it you want ? " 

" The king asks for the Prince Cyrus," said the 
slave. 



FIRST BATTLE OF CYRUS THE GREAT. 91 

" Lemprius," cried Cyrus, hotly, " he will ask me 
to dine with him again. Oh, I know it is a great 
honor, granted to but very few, but I am sick of 
honors at this Median court ! Let me go back to 
the rough hills, to the simple outdoor life of Per- 
sia ! There I lived with the youths, I followed the 
chase, I learned virtue and justice from the old 
men, I was happy ! But here, in this painted 
court with its stifling perfumes, what call to cour- 
age or honor is there ? Where is the life of a man 
here, listening to music and watching dancing-girls? 
I like none of them but Atossa. Atossa listens 
when I talk of Persia and its wild woods and great 
steep hills, its valleys, its streams. Persia ! 
Lemprius, my heart wearies ! Why will not King 
Astyages at least let me go home to my father for 
a season?" 

" Because he fears King Cambyses far less than 
Cambyses' s son, the Prince Cyrus," returned the 
high, slow voice of Lemprius, as he and Cyrus 
together threaded the corridors toward the king's 
chamber. " Persia pays tribute to Media, and pays 
it willingly only while her prince royal, son of 
King Cambyses, lives with Astyages of Media at 
Ecbatana." 

u Lemprius, you have the ear of the king. Be- 
seech him to let me go to Persia, if only to get one 
draught of pure Persian air." 



92 FIRST BATTLE OF CYRUS THE GEEAT. 

" Have you not asked the king ? " 

" Oh, many times ; but all he says is, ' I cannot 
lose so noble a cup-bearer as Prince Cyrus.' 

Arrived at the king's door, Lemprius ushered 
Cyrus in. There, in a room of great size and 
height, whose walls were plates of beaten silver 
and gold, whose floor was marble of the finest 
quarry, where fountains plashed, and low music 
rippled, where heavy perfumes rose in smoke from 
low brass braziers, buried deep in silken cushions, 
lounged Astyages, king of Media. His eyebrows 
and lashes were painted thick and black, but his 
cheeks were red as crimson from a dye placed upon 
them, and with his slender, weak hands he held 
and toyed with a rose. 

Cyrus, having prostrated himself before the 
king, received his invitation to dine with him. 

" And now desire of me a favor, prince," said 
Astyages languidly. 

Cyrus straightened himself. " Let me visit the 
Lord Cambyses, my father," he implored. " Let 
me see Persia." 

" And is not Media fairer than Persia ? " asked 
the king. 

" king, live forever," returned Cyrus. u Media 
is fair ; but to the dog, the kennel is fairer than the 
courts of the king." 

"And to the wild boar, the forest is sweeter 



FIRST BATTLE OF CYEUS THE GREAT. 93 

than the garden of rare fruits," softly sang Atossa, 
the dancing-girl. Cyrus flung her a look. Then 
he retreated from the presence of the king with- 
out receiving the permission he craved, and lying 
down beside a fountain, moodily w r atched the fly- 
ing drops. 

Late that night Lemprius came to his bedside. 
Rousing the boy, he whispered softly, " I have 
the permission. At once you may ride away from 
the palace to Parsargadae, to your father. I give 
you my fleetest horse and my escort of soldiers. 
The king sets you free for five months." The boy 
leaped from his bed and made ready. Before mid- 
night he was up and away. Lemprius not only 
gave him his own escort, but released and mounted 
the little band of Persian warriors who had been 
sent to Media with Cyrus. 

When in the fragrant dawn Cyrus's eyes beheld 
the free, open fields upon the highway to Persia, 
his heart leaped with joy. All day long and far 
into the night that little band of flying horsemen 
beat up the dust of the highway. 

At nightfall Astyages lay in his favorite place, 
surrounded by sweet odors, soft tinkling water, and 
his dancing-girls. Looking about him, he espied 
Atossa sitting with her hands idly clasped, her lyre 
at her feet, and a strange, restless look in her eyes. 
Atossa had liked Cyrus ; she missed his presence at 



94 FIRST BATTLE OF CYRUS THE GREAT. 

the court, and was angry with him for going 
away. 

Astyages guessed this, and not liking it too well, 
he called upon Atossa for a song. She rose with a 
curious smile playing around her lips, and bending 
low before the king, softly touched her harp and 
sang : — 

" The Lion had the Wild Boar in his power, 
But let him depart to his own lair. 
In his lair he will wax in strength ; 
He will cause the Lion a world of toil, 
At length the Wild Boar will overcome the Lion." 

Astyages turned restlessly upon his cushions. 
With a frown he sent Atossa away from him, but 
the words of the song disquieted and disturbed 
him. He sent for Lemprius. "I was a fool," he 
said, glowering up at the great black slave, who 
usually had such control over him. "Why did I 
let Cyrus go ?- I had him in my power. But now 
he is free to gather up his Persian hordes of water- 
drinkers and cress-eaters, and resist my power over 
Persia. I was a fool ! Go tell my chief officer to 
take the fleetest band of horsemen in the stables 
and ride forth at once, overtake Cyrus, and bring 
him back to Ecbatana." 

Lemprius, fearing the unusual anger of the king, 
hastened to give the command, and at nightfall of 
the second day, as Cyrus and his men were pitch- 




"The King's Wjll and Decree are the Laws of the Persians. 



FIEST BATTLE OF CYEUS THE GEE AT. 97 

ing their tents after a hard day's ride, they were 
overtaken by the band of horsemen, headed by the 
king's officer. Cyrus knew well what it meant. 
He folded his arms across his breast, and in silence 
awaited Eparna's approach. After prostrating him- 
self, Eparna said, " Prince Cyrus, live forever ! 
My gracious master, the king, saith the wine-cup 
hath lost its sweetness, now that the most noble 
prince is not his cup-bearer. He requests that 
Cyrus return immediately to the court of Ecbatana 
to be the light of his eyes." 

Cyrus looked for one instant toward the hills of 
Persia before he answered. Then he said quietly, 
" The king's will and decree are the laws of the 
Medes and the Persians. I will therefore neither 
question the decree nor the messenger. But thou 
hast had a day of fleet riding. Thy men and thy 
beasts are weary. Rest in the tents till morning, and 
drink with us the wine of cheer and refreshment." 

Eparna and his men were very weary, and 
readily consented to this ; so Cyrus prepared a 
feast and poured the wine freely. The Medes 
filled cup after cup; but Cyrus and his Persians 
drank sparingly, as was their custom. At mid- 
night all the Medes were stupid in a heavy drunken 
sleep. Cyrus watched till, by the light of the 
dying torches, he saw every warrior lying motion- 
less, when softly rising, he gave a signal, and he 



98 EIKST BATTLE OF CYRUS THE GREAT. 

and his Persians stole out together to a thicket, 
where the horses were tied. They sprang upon them 
and paced them cautiously for a quarter of a mile, 
then suddenly gave them the rein, and fled to the 
first little town on the Persian border, where they 
arrived at daybreak. 

The sentinel of the town accosted Cyrus as he 
rode up to the gate, and learning who he was, let 
him in joyfully, calling out the body of soldiers 
whom his father, Cambyses, had placed there to 
await him, should he succeed in escaping from 
Media. Cyrus's heart throbbed and beat with joy 
as the ranks of sober, steady Persian soldiers filed 
past him. 

Prince in his own right once more, he made 
them a stirring speech. While they were yet 
under arms, a messenger came running hastily in 
from the gates, crying that a body of Median 
horsemen were riding up to make an attack. 
Cyrus instantly marshaled his men together and 
rode out valiantly to meet Eparna. The Median 
officer had hardly gotten rid of the fumes of the 
wine, aild was besides furious with anger at Cyrus's 
cleverness in getting out of his hands. So he 
rushed blindly upon the Persians, and they re- 
turned the onslaught under Cyrus's leadership, with 
such cool, calculated resistance that Eparna was 
driven back with great slaughter and was glad to 



FIRST BATTLE OF CYKUS THE GBEAT. 99 

turn his horses' heads and flee to Ecbatana. Cyrus, 
meanwhile, hurried across Persia to his father's 
capital, Parsargadae, where Cambyses received him 
with the greatest joy. 

Astyages impatiently awaited Eparna's return, 
and gave orders that when he arrived he was to 
be instantly brought before him. Eparna arrived 
at nightfall, and dusty and weary, was hurried 
into the king's presence. Astyages, seeing him 
come alone, cried out in anger, and when Eparna 
had told him of his defeat, he exclaimed, " An 
Assyrian like thyself may be conquered by the Per- 
sian hordes, but not the Median ! Ah, fool, to let 
Cyrus get out of thy hands ! It boots not to heap 
favors on the vile ! So thou wert gulled by smooth 
words and hast brought upon us this mischief. I 
myself will reduce Persia to obedience." 

So Astyages called out all his great army and 
marched in their midst toward Persia, where, in a 
little town on the frontier, Cambyses and Cyrus 
with their army of the Persians looked for the 
coming of the Medians. Cyrus daily inspected the 
camp, and with words of high courage and inspira- 
tion tried to rouse the Persian soldiers to meet and 
defeat the Medes. But Persia had long been sub- 
ject to the Medes, and the simple, frugal, hardy 
Persians doubted their own power to overcome so 
strong an enemy. 

LofC. 



100 FIRST BATTLE OF CYRUS THE GREAT. 

At length the Medians came, their banners fly- 
ing, their armor glittering, and the greatness of 
their numbers completely terrifying the Persians. 
Cyrus persuaded Cambyses to remain in the town 
and defend it, and he himself with a -beautiful and 
dauntless courage led the attack upon Astyages. 
The battle lasted all day, and was fiercely carried 
on, on both sides. The Persians fought with great 
courage since the Medians were four to one, and at 
nightfall Cyrus withdrew his men into the town, 
having sustained heavy losses ; while Astyages, 
with all his fighting, had not gained a decisive 
victory. Having many soldiers left, and knowing 
what number of Persians were killed, Astyages 
tried a trick. He detached one hundred thousand 
men and sent them to fall upon the rear of the 
town. With the rest of his army he attacked the 
Persians in the front, who called all their strong- 
est force forth in defense. The Medes in the rear 
suddenly fell upon the town w T ith its little handful 
of men, and utterly routed them. Cambyses was 
killed while fighting bravely ; and Astyages, who 
entered the city while Eparna was engaging Cyrus, 
stood looking down upon the dead body of Cam- 
byses. The song of Atossa recurred to him. By 
the fortunes of w T ar Cyrus was now king of Persia, 
and he, Astyages, upon Persian soil. The long- 
limbed, clean-faced boy with his falcon eye rose 



FIRST BATTLE OF CYRUS THE GREAT. 101 

before his mind, and with a foreboding in his 
heart, he gave orders to his soldiers to advance 
and take Parsargadae, the capital. 

The Persians, finding the day lost, were fleeing 
rapidly to Parsargadae ; and Cyrus, galloping swiftly, 
first entered the city. Rushing to the palace where 
he was now king, he ordered all the women and chil- 
dren to retreat to the' summit of the loftiest of all 
the rough and lofty mountains, in the heart of which 
lay Parsargadae. Then Cyrus placed his men to 
command the narrow and rocky passes which led 
to his capital. When the army of Astyages came 
to the mountains, they found the advance very 
difficult. Astyages saw r at once that he could not 
get his great army through the narrow pass, bravely 
defended by ten thousand Persians. So he tried 
again his plan of detaching a part of his army to 
go around and come upon Parsargadae from the 
rear. The Medes pushed on, and meeting a little 
band of Persians defending a side pass, conquered 
them and advanced to the foot of the mountain, at 
the summit of which the women and children had 
been placed for safety. 

The Persians, closely followed by the Medes, 
were driven up the slope of the mountain, the 
Medes shouting and forcing them upward. Sud- 
denly as the men scrambled among the wild olive 
trees, fighting as they retreated, a wild crying fell 



102 FIRST BATTLE OF CYRUS THE GREAT. 

upon their ears. They knew through all the din 
of battle what that wailing meant. It was the 
voices of Persian wives and mothers and sisters 
lifted in sorrow and upbraiding. 

" Is it thus that you, Persians, defend your loved 
ones from the power of the Mede ? Thus, do you, 
rushing and tumbling, show your fear of the sword 
which you are directing straight to the hearts of 
the mothers who bore you, and the wives who love, 
you ? Will you look on while we are slain before 
your eyes — you, who could not defend us ? Halt, 
cowards ! Eush down upon your enemies rather 
than away from them ! And we, rejoicing to see 
you die like men, will leap from the rocks, bearing 
our children, ere the enemy reach us ! ' 

The Persians, nerved and sobered by this appeal, 
suddenly gathered themselves together, turned upon 
the enemy, and rushing furiously down the moun- 
tain slopes, fell upon the astonished Medes who, 
pursuing as they thought an easy victory, were 
overborne and slain in great numbers. 

Now for the first time the subject Persians felt 
the strength of power and conquest infusing 
them; and Cyrus, beating off Astyages in the 
narrow passes, called his army together, drove 
Astyages backward to the open plain and there 
fell upon him with irresistible fury and conquered 
him. Astyages was taken prisoner and brought 



FIRST BATTLE OF CYRUS THE GREAT. 103 

into the tent of Cyrus. He came, followed by 
his captured generals. Cyrus dismissed the gen- 
erals, and, standing quietly in his simple tent, met 
Astyages with an unbending look and a haughty 
gesture. 

" Thus am I again in your presence, king," 
he said. " To you it seemed good to enter a 
rebellious province and subdue a disobedient 
people. For years have our elders taught us 
valor, virtue, and justice ; and the Persian soldier 
having run, as a child from a tormentor at the lash 
of the cruel whip, hath broken that whip into 
ribbons and learned his own strength. Behold, 
thou hast made me king of Persia and Media. 
All that was thine is mine. The generals whose 
tactics got thee thy successes are mine, not thine. 
With them and my hardy Persian soldiers, I, Cyrus, 
will conquer the world. But to you, Astyages, to 
whom war was ever a necessity rather than a glory, 
to you it shall be given to loll upon cushions in a 
palace, taking thine ease with thy slaves and 
dancing-girls." 

So Astyages was made a prisoner in a palace, 
and all the people both of Media and Persia gladly 
welcomed the rule of Cyrus. Persia, under Cyrus, 
conquered all the then well-known countries of 
the world and became a great empire, while Cyrus 
gained the name of Cyrus the Great. 



THE KHAN OF THE SILVER CROWN. 

AVERY long time ago, in the ancient coun- 
try of Tartary, there lay hidden in the 
heart of its mountains a very beautiful 
city. This city lay close to the boundary where 
Tartary touches China, and had been built by the 
Chinese. In its center was a magnificent temple 
of such great beauty that its windows were set in 
jewels, and its walls and ceilings incrusted with 
them. Toward this city, one day, came a horde of 
strange wild people, riding strong and fiery horses, 
and bearing bows and spears. The warlike men 
of the tribe rode foremost, sitting upon their steeds 
erect and fierce, and behind them came their family 
tents, odd-looking canopies, mounted upon wheeled 
platforms, and drawn by fine, strong oxen. This 
w r as a fierce Tartar tribe of wandering people led 
by their great khan, who rode foremost on a 
creamy-white horse, and whose word was law to 
all his tribe. From place to place they had wan- 
dered, camping for months beside the mountain 
streams, when the valleys were green and the 
grass good for pasture ; living in caves and forests 

104 



THE KHAK OF THE SILVER CROWN". 105 

around enormous fires, when the winter of the 
country came down ; and always fighting, conquer- 
ing, or robbing any other tribe which happened to 
get in their way. 

Now all the long night they had been traveling 
up the narrow valley, and when the morning broke, 
the city with its gleaming roofs and sparkling 
towers lay before their eyes. The curling moun- 
tain mists were just ascending from it as the sun 
struck it, and it lay before the Tartar khan's vision 
like a city of enchantment. Calling some of his men 
to him, he sent them forward to find where the 
gates of the city might lie. They returned, bring- 
ing to him a tarnished silver bowl. Presenting it 
to the khan, they told a curious story. A tall, 
commanding man's figure, wearing the yellow robe 
of the Tartar dress, came running down the road 
toward them, carrying the silver bowl. His face 
was serious and of great beauty. While they looked 
at him, he stumbled and fell, and when they came 
up to the place in the road where he had fallen, 
the silver bowl lay there in the dust, but the man 
had disappeared. 

The khan looked into the bottom of the bowl, 
and there read the following inscription : " Be thou 
brave to conquer the Silver Crown and the Golden 
Throne ; but when heirs of thy flesh fail, seek him 
only to rule the city whom the people love, the 



106 THE KHAN OF THE SILVER CROWK 

beasts follow, and the sun serves ; and he shall be 
the Khan of the Silver Crown." 

Before nightfall the wild Tartar tribe had con- 
quered and taken the city. The ease-loving Chin- 
ese inhabitants had preferred running to fight- 
ing, and so these wild, mountain people were soon 
streaming through all the streets and wandering at 
will into houses, palaces, and temples. The khan 
went straight to the great temple, and pushing 
through its courts of jade and ivory and crusted 
jewels, he came into an inner room of dazzling 
magnificence, where stood a throne of solid gold, 
and near it lay a silver crown. Seating himself 
upon the throne, he put the silver crown upon his 
head, and proclaimed himself khan of the city. He 
then had the silver bowl brought to him, and plac- 
ing it in a cabinet of sandal wood, he hung the key 
about his neck, and made a decree that every khan 
of the city who followed him should wear the key 
about his neck till he died, and then bequeath it to 
his son. 

The wild, wandering Tartars now settled in the 
city, and gradually laid aside their rough ways of 
living, growing more and more powerful in all that 
wealth can bring, and more fierce in the art of war. 
Khan after khan led the people to battle, and they 
pushed their way into China and terrified the 
Chinese, by terrible raids upon their towns. They 



THE KHAN OF THE SILVER CROWN. 107 

returned to the city from these raids bearing great 
piles of treasures and riches, to add to those which 
they already had. As the khans grew richer and 
more powerful, they and the people they ruled over 
forgot all about the simplicity of their wandering 
life, and began gradually to lose their strength and 
bravery, as they grew more and more ease-loving. 

Finally, after the silver bowl had been locked in 
its cabinet for hundreds of years, and the khans 
who wore the key about their necks forgot what 
it belonged to, a khan died, leaving no sons nor 
daughters to succeed him, and the city had no 
ruler. One of the nobles, bending over the body 
of the dead khan, observed the tiny key, and 
remembered the old story of the man in the yellow 
robe, running down the road with the bowl. 

The nobles formed a procession and went into the 
temple, where again the golden throne was empty, 
and the silver crown lay upon its cushion. Open- 
ing the little cabinet, they read the inscription 
in the silver bowl : " Be thou brave to conquer the 
Silver Crown and the Golden Throne ; but when 
heirs of thy flesh fail, seek him only to rule the 
city whom the people love, the beasts follow, and 
the sun serves ; and he shall be the Khan of the 
Silver Crown.' ' 

The nobles looked at one another in silence. 
Now as a matter of fact, the people had no love 



108 THE KHAN OF THE SILVER CROWN. 

for the haughty, overbearing nobles, and the nobles 
did not love the people. The beasts fled in terror 
from the fleet hoofs of their hunting horses ; and 
as for the great sun, who could bear to lift his face 
to it, far less ask its personal service? So not a 
noble of the court dared put the silver crown 
upon his brow, fearing the mysterious words of 
the bowl ; but they ruled the city among them, 
dividing up its offices, and for thirteen years there 
was no khan. By that time strife, anger, blood- 
shed, and murder were abroad, and the peace of 
the city was gone. Everywhere they searched for 
him of whom it might be said, man, beast, and the 
sun of heaven did him homage. In foreign cities 
and among other tribes they searched ; but no such 
man could be found. 

One of the greatest and strongest nobles of the 
kingdom was Vitou. One day Vitou and several 
other nobles had ridden together to hunt in the 
forest. As dusk was falling, Vitou became sepa- 
rated from his companions, and entering a dark 
valley in the wood his horse stumbled and fell. 
Rising, he broke away from Vitou and fled, leaving 
him to find his way as best he could among the 
dark trees. 

When at last he came out of the wood, the moon 
was shining brightly over a little village of rude 
tents and peaceful herds, very like that of his own 



THE KHAN OF THE SILVER CROWN. 109 

tribe in ancient days. Taking a footpath which 
led down into this village, he came suddenly upon 
the end of a gigantic mountain ravine, entirely 
barred across by a tremendous rock. 

Through a hole in this rock, a thin stream of 
cool, sweet water fell slowly into a rocky basin, 
with a tinkling murmur. Being thirsty, Vitou 
stooped and drank a long draught of the refreshing 
water. Then he followed the path to a place 
where it forked. One branch went on directly 
down into the village, the other ascended by a 
winding way, up the steep hillside. 

While Vitou stood hesitating, a tall man, clad 
in a yellow robe and bearing a water- jar upon his 
shoulders, descended the mountain path. Seeing 
Vitou standing there, he greeted him courteously ; 
and finding him to be a stranger who had lost his 
way, he immediately asked him to his hut to 
spend the night, and promised that in the morn- 
ing he would send him on his way back to the 
city. Having filled his water-jar, the man led 
Vitou up the mountain path to a tiny hut, built 
upon a light frame stretched upon four poles, 
and they entered his dwelling-place by a ladder. 
It was a single room in the center of which was 
a brazier of wood coals about to die out, the last 
glow sending a faint light through the gloom. 

Vitou saw that he was in a hermit's cell, 



110 THE KHAN OF THE SILVER CROWN. 

and seating himself beside the brazier of coals, 
which now burned more brightly under added 
fuel, he began to question his host. In a few 
minutes light footfalls were heard outside, and 
a moment later a villager, bearing goat's milk, 
dates, figs, and bread, hurried into the room, lay- 
ing this simple bat excellent supper before Vitou. 

" My mother, seeing thee bid a guest to thy 
house, sends thee food to his taste, Lord Tewfik," 
he said. A few moments later another lad appeared 
with companions, bearing sweet-smelling boughs, 
which they flung together for a bed, and the elder 
of the lads said, " Our father, seeing thee bid a 
guest to thy house, sends thee boughs for the 
stranger's bed, Lord Tewfik." 

"Stay," cried Vitou; " why dost thou this for 
the stranger guest of thy Lord Tewfik ? ' : 

" Because," answered the lad, " the Lord Tewfik 
hath won our great love. The mountain streams 
which bring water to us and our beasts dry up in 
the summer. From year to year we suffered great 
want of water, thousands of us, also our beasts, 
dying of thirst, till Tewfik came among us. He, 
observing that a heavy rock hung over the ravine, 
where our chief mountain torrent rushes down in 
the spring, dislodged the rock so that it fell into 
the mouth of the ravine, shutting back the water, 
which now lies there in a pool of great purity ; 




"A Tall Man, descending the Mountain Path.' 



THE KHAN OF THE SILVER CROWN. 113 

and a hole, drilled through the rock, serves us 
in times of need with sweet water." 

Here, thought Vitou, catching his breath, is a 
man whom the people love. He narrowly observed 
Tewfik as he sat in the light of the coals, and 
seeing him young, and fair to look upon, asked 
him eagerly many questions which the hermit 
answered wisely. After a while they lay down 
to rest, the hermit upon a rude couch of dried 
grass, and Vitou upon his sweet-smelling boughs. 
In the middle of the night he was aroused by the 
fearful wailing cries of wild beasts, which came 
nearer and nearer the hermit's dwelling. By and 
by a united chorus of blood-curdling yells and 
howlings was heard directly under the platform 
upon which they were sleeping. Vitou, trembling 
with terror, crouched among his boughs, scarcely 
daring to breathe, when he saw Tewfik suddenly 
arise, take down a bunch of herbs from the wall, 
and start toward the door. Vitou cried out to 
him not to go out, or he would be devoured ; but 
heeding neither his words nor his detaining hand, 
Tewfik disappeared down the ladder. In an in- 
stant the howlings ceased. Vitou, breathless with 
fear, crawled softly over to the doorway, and 
peeped out. 

The moon was shining brightly, and in its 
beams he beheld Tewfik standing in the midst 



114 THE KHAN OF THE SILVER CROWN. 

of a pack of wild beasts, flinging to them 
the herbs which they ate greedily, even lick- 
ing his hands and fawning upon him. After a 
while they went quietly away, and Tewfik ascended 
the ladder. To Vitou's astonished questions, he 
replied with a smile, that years ago he had found 
an herb which relieved wild beasts in distress, and 
he fed it to them ; they knew he had it, and came to 
him when they needed it. "Here," thought Vitou, 
" is a man whom the people love and the beasts 
follow, but alas ! how can the sun serve him ? ' : 
He tossed upon his bed of boughs and slept un- 
easily the rest of the night. 

In the morning Tewfik awakened him, and 
led him to a mountain stream, where they had a 
delicious bath, and Tewfik, fixing some osiers in 
the water, caught fish for their breakfast. As 
they reentered the hut, the pieces of wood in the 
brazier lay charred to white ashes. Tewfik quietly 
emptied them out, and laid some fresh dry sticks 
in their place. Then reaching up, he drew aside 
a little curtain in the roof, which covered a thick 
piece of glass. A small disk of brilliant light fell 
instantly upon the sticks of wood which in a few 
seconds began to smoke, and shortly after blazed 
into fire, when the hermit calmly proceeded to 
broil the fish. 

Vitou was in transports of joy. "Thou art the 



THE KHAN OF THE SILVER CROWN. 115 

khan ! " he cried ; " thou art the khan ! How is 
it that living so near to the city we found thee not 
in all these years ? " 

" Where sought you a khan ? ' asked Tewfik ; 
and Vitou, the noble, hung his head and replied, 
" Never among the people." Vitou then told him 
of the inscription in the silver bowl, and said, 
"Wilt thou be our khan?" 

"If/-- replied Tewfik, "thou wilt lead me to 
the nobles in this yellow robe." Now the yellow 
robe was a mark of the poorest class of the people, 
and Vitou hesitated. " Why may I not bring thee 
fitting robes ? " he asked, for he knew that in fit- 
ting clothes Tewfik would stand tall and kingly, 
but he feared his success would be doubtful in the 
yellow robe. However, they set out at noon and 
reached the city at sunset. 

Tewfik would not enter the city, but lay all night 
outside its gates. Vitou hurried to his palace, and 
called a sitting of the nobles. When they heard 
of Tewfik, in their hearts they were sorry and not 
glad. They had learned to love power, and none 
wished to submit to a khan again, much less to a 
khan in a yellow robe. So they laughed Vitou to 
scorn and said : " Thou liest. Show us the khan in 
the yellow robe ! " 

Vitou led them to the city gate before it was 
opened, and there, sitting in the midst of all those 



116 THE KHAN OF THE SILVEK CKOWK 

of the common people who waited to enter the 
city, they saw Tewfik teaching them. " See/' 
cried Vitou, " how the people love him ! ' 

" Nay/' they replied, " he is of the people. Why 
should they not love their own?" 

When Vitou called Tewfik, he stood calmly before 
all the scoffing lords and nobles ; and when they 
jeered at him for claiming to be khan, he said, " I 
claim nothing. Ye shall put the silver crown 
upon my head." 

"That will never be," they cried. "Come, let 
us fling him among the beasts who follow him ! ' 
They caught him up and carried him to a deep pit, 
filled with wild beasts of a ferocious kind, and 
with laughs and mockery flung him in. Then 
they crowded round, expecting him to be torn to 
pieces. The beasts leapt forth at him with snarls, 
but presently the nobles were utterly astonished to 
see them creeping about him, fawning on him, and 
licking greedily the bits of herb which he fed to 
them. Not one wild tooth touched his flesh, but 
the beasts lay about him in obedience to his slight- 
est touch. 

Fear now stirred the hearts of the nobles, and 
they did not know what to do. Vitou led Tewfik 
back among them, and then they said, " The sun — 
let the sun serve him ! ' They ran and brought 
wood and, piled it up about him. Then they cried : 



THE KHAN OF THE SILVER CKOWK 117 

"Set fire to this pile, and thou mayst go to 
the temple. If no fire descend from the sun 
at thy call, we will bring thee fire to a surer 
purpose." 

Tewfik, taking a glass from within the breast 
of his robe, held it forth with a smile. "Good 
people," he said calmly, "if when I call down fire 
from the sun ye still will not bend your stiff necks 
to a khan, let the fire consume me, as fire will also 
consume this city, where the people forget their 
khan and their prophecies." 

Now the nobles were sorely afraid and held their 
breaths, watching the little dancing disk of light as 
it played over a fagot of wood. Suddenly it be- 
came steady, a thin curl of smoke arose, and at 
last a flame burst forth. A deep silence greeted 
the flame as it burned and crackled. Then with a 
shout they tore the wood away, crying, " The khan, 
the khan ! " and bore him on their shoulders to the 
temple. 

There stood the empty throne, the silver crown, 
and the sandal-wood cabinet locked, with the key 
within the keyhole. The khan in his yellow dress 
lifted the crown, and put it upon his brow. At 
the same instant, Vitou turned the key in the 
cabinet, and a heavy but refreshing perfume at 
once filled the room. The bowl was gone, though 
many had caught its gleam when the door swung 



118 THE KHAN OF THE SILVEE CROWN. 

open. In its place lay a fresh, exquisitely beau- 
tiful yellow rose. They turned to Tewfik. He 
stood smiling down at them, tall, stately, com- 
manding and proud, and in his hands, as in the 
prophecy, lo, he held the silver bowl ! 



CLOVIS THE FRANK. 

ALONG time ago the land which is now 
called France was a green wilderness, in- 
habited only by wild wandering tribes of 
a savage and warlike people. This land was called 
Gaul. To the north lay low plains and marsh lands, 
where lived other tribes as wild and savage as those 
to the south. All these people lived in tents or 
under mud huts, and either hunted wild game in 
the woods or pastured cattle on the plains. 

When game became scarce or pasture gave out, a 
tribe would strike their tents and go wandering 
for better living, perhaps into the lands of another 
tribe, when a fight would occur, and the stronger 
tribe conquer the weaker. What are now Belgium 
and Holland was then a land of marshes and fens, 
inhabited by the wild tribes of the Ripuarian 
Franks. Where now are West Germany and the 
Rhine lived a more savage and warlike branch 
of these people, called the Salic Franks. All the 
Franks were tall and strong, 'with blue eyes and 
long golden hair. They were fearless in fight, and 
without softness or pity. 

119 



120 CLOVIS THE FRANK. 

Southeast of Gaul lay the great Roman Empire. 
Under this empire the people were so highly civil- 
ized that they cared only to live in luxury and 
wear soft garments, eat fine food and be amused, 
so that even while they were sending their armies 
to conquer the land of Gaul, they, as a nation, 
were growing more and more weak and selfish. 
At length they conquered Gaul, and civilized it; 
at least they built great roads, and beautiful cities 
full of palaces, and taught the people all about 
their gods and goddesses. Then the hardy, war- 
like Gauls became as soft and ease-loving as the 
Romans, their conquerors. 

Rome was growing very poor ; to meet her debts 
she laid tax after tax upon the conquered Gauls ; 
and if the people had no money to pay these taxes, 
they were sold as slaves. 

While they were so terribly oppressed, priests 
came through the land preaching Christ's tender 
love and pity for the poor and suffering. The 
Gauls were easily persuaded to embrace this new 
faith; so Gaul became a Christian country. The 
priests built great churches and monasteries. There 
were, however, differences in this faith. In the re- 
gion where Paris now stands, they believed one 
kind of doctrine ; but all through the south another 
sort of doctrine was taught. The Christians, who, 
such a short time ago, had been savages, quarreling 



CLOVIS THE FRANK. 121 

over pastures and hunting grounds, now began 
quarreling over this difference of religion, each 
trying to prove his own teaching right, and the 
other wrong. Not that they understood very 
deeply the difference in teaching ; they fought 
ignorantly under the banners of their leaders. 
The Christians of the south called themselves 
Arians. 

The Roman Empire had also adopted the Chris- 
tian faith ; but growing weaker and weaker, it 
finally split in two, and there arose two empires 
under two emperors. One was known as the Em- 
pire of the West, and was ruled by the Emperor 
iEtius ; the Empire of the East was ruled by. Theo- 
dosius. Theodosius held his capital at Constanti- 
nople ; iEtius his at Rome. Africa also was a part 
of the Roman Empire, and was governed by Gai- 
seric, the Vandal, who hated iEtius and Theodosius, 
as Theodosius and iEtius hated him. 

Gaiseric wished to see Europe weakened still 
more, so he sent messengers to a terrible savage 
chief called Attila the Hun, to beg him to overrun 
Europe, with his hordes of wild followers out of 
western Asia. Attila entered Europe through 
western Germany, and pushed his way to a place 
called Chalons in Gaul. Here he was met by a 
large army of Romans and Gauls, and a band of 
northern savages who fought with great fury, and 



122 CLOVIS THE FRANK. 

who were none other than the Ripuarian Franks, 
under their chief Merovis. The great bravery of 
the Franks turned the battle against Attila the 
Hun, and he was driven back out of Europe. 

When Merovis returned to his northern marshes, 
among other treasures taken from the Gauls and 
Huns, he led a beautiful white horse. He called to 
him his little grandson, Clovis, and presented him 
with the horse, bidding him, when he should become 
a man, grow to be a great warrior, and the leader of 
his people. Clovis, then a tall open-faced Frankish 
boy, with blue eyes, and hair as yellow as ripe 
corn, never missed an opportunity to hear all the 
stories the warriors told of Gaul — that fair lordly 
land lying to the south, with its rich fields, and its 
cities full of treasure. 

At length Clovis was grown to be a huge, bearded 
man, and a warrior fearless in battle, and he became 
chief of the Franks. One summer a great drought 
overspread the land of the Franks, and the grass 
for the cattle turned yellow and died, while the 
streams of water dried up in their beds, and the 
sun shone in a sky of brass. 

Clovis, on his white horse, had been away from 
his people ; for two weeks he had been looking for 
pasturage, and now, Fredegonde, his little kins- 
woman, standing at the door of their mud hut, saw 
him riding home. She gave the news of his return 




Clovis in Battlp:. 



From the painting by Ary Scheffer. 



CLOVIS THE FRANK. 125 

to the household ; but Clovis, paying no attention 
to the food and welcome offered him, sat aside, 
gloomy and silent, looking with sullen eyes upon 
his half -starved herds of cattle. He had ridden so 
far to the south that he had seen the sunny, waving 
corn-fields and the tinkling brooks of northern 
Gaul, where the drought had not been so severe, 
and the sight had filled him with a desire to pos- 
sess this land of plenty for himself. 

The next day he sent fleet runners to assemble 
all the fighting chiefs of his tribes, and they held 
a great council out under the forest trees. Clovis 
presided. He told of the riches of Gaul, and urged 
that the Franks should all together descend upon 
it, and take the land. The younger chiefs were 
all with him ; but some of the older ones spoke 
cautiously of the strength of Roman arms. 

Hildebrand, nephew of Clovis, hiding behind 
a tree, heard it all, and running to his sister Frede- 
gonde, told her that they were to find a new living 
place in the sunny south. When Clovis came home 
after the council, the look of gloom had passed 
from his face. The blaze of the warrior s wrath 
slumbered in his blue eye as he gave his marching 
orders, and every living soul about him hastened 
to obey them. 

Ox-carts, filled with dried grass, were prepared 
for the women and children., supplies of coarse 



126 CLOVIS THE FRANK. 

food were stored in wagons, and in a few days 
the hordes of Franks arose everywhere through- 
out their regions and began in great hosts to 
stream southward into Gaul. 

Meanwhile Gaul, little dreaming of this danger 
threatening it from the north, struggled to raise 
the heavy taxes laid upon it by its southern con- 
queror, Rome. Roman tax-gatherers swarmed 
through its cities, and day after day one might 
see sorrowful bands of men, women, and children 
driven to the market-places to be sold as slaves 
for the taxes they were too poor to pay. 

In the city of Soissons the Romans had been 
very harsh. Soissons was a beautiful city, filled 
with churches and palaces. Over it shone the 
sunny blue sky of the land, and on a day a little 
after midsummer, the sweet air and sunshine had 
been so delightful that in the palace gardens of 
the Roman governor, little Marcus and Lutetia, 
two children of the household, had played all day 
long out of doors, with the blue doves and plash- 
ing fountains. Twilight was now falling, and 
a long, feathery cloud of rose color stretched 
down the sky from the north. Lutetia had her 
eyes upon it, but she was not looking at it. She 
clutched Marcus tightly, and both children listened 
with bated breath to the shouts and cries w r hich 
reached their ears from the city without. 



CLOVIS THE FKANK. 127 

" Marcus, listen ! It is true/' wailed little 
Lutetia, u the Franks have not only come into 
Gaul, but they have taken Soissons ! ' 

" Taken Soissons/' answered Marcus; "yes, and 
taken our governor, and are coming here to take 
his palace, without a blow for defense having been 
struck ! " 

" And we call ourselves Romans ! " cried Lutetia. 

"Yes, we call ourselves Romans," laughed Mar- 
cus, scornfully ; u but that is just what we are not ! 
Our blood is of Gaul. Our ancestors were once 
as wild and free as these barbarians who are now 
trooping down upon us. Would we had stayed 
so ! Then we would have met them blow for 
blow ! Now see to what good Gallic blood is 
come! We would rather yield ourselves up to 
these Franks, than fight to save Soissons for the 
Emperor of Rome. We know how Rome would 
reward us. She would only send more tax- 
gatherers to wring money from empty purses ; 
she would sell us the more gladly for slaves ! 
Let Clovis come ! He is better than the Caesars ! 
Hark, Lutetia ! " 

At the garden gate arose a confused noise and 
murmur. The gate burst open, and into the garden 
rushed a strange and motley group. A guard of 
Roman soldiers fully armed entered first, followed 
by the governor of Soissons and members of his 



128 CLOYIS THE FRANK. 

household, in rich Roman dress. Towering head 
and shoulders over them, back of these, strode 
Clovis. Bare of head, with bared arms and legs, 
grasping his short sword and round wooden shield, 
he swung forward with strides like those of a 
giant. His face w T as flushed with victory. His 
blue eyes flashed from one token of wealth to 
another with greedy glances. Back of him, 
shrinking and timid, but walking still with the 
proud step which became a queen, came Clothilde, 
his newly made wife, followed by Hildebrand and 
Fredegonde. A rabble of Frankish warriors 
brought up the rear. 

Lutetia, with a child's instinct, ran to Queen 
Clothilde. Marcus sprang to his father, who 
was one of the nobles in the train of the Roman 
governor. The soldiers led the procession to the 
doors of the chapel. The chapel of the governor of 
Soissons was in reality a great church. Back of it 
lay the dwellings of a sisterhood, and to them the 
governor now ordered Lutetia to conduct Queen 
Clothilde and little Fredegonde. Clovis pushed 
open the church door and peered into the dark 
church. At the end of the long aisle a swinging 
lamp glimmered like a faint star. In some way 
its restful silence assured him of the queen's safety, 
for he let her go, and went on up to the palace. 

The queen, unattended now save by the two 



CLOVIS THE FKANK. 129 

little maidens, walked with a reverent step tow- 
ard the altar with its still, gleaming light. For 
the first time since Clovis, bursting into her fath- 
er's country, had laid it waste and then forced her 
father to give her to him in marriage, Clothilde 
felt safe. She and Lutetia having veiled their own 
dark locks, the queen covered the golden tresses 
of little Fredegonde. As they passed the high 
altar both the queen and Lutetia reverently bowed 
the knee, but Fredegonde raised wondering, startled 
eyes to the figure of the Christ upon his cross en- 
throned there. At a smaller altar twinkling with 
candles, she stopped again to lift a curious glance. 
Here stood a small statue representing the figure 
of a woman with a mild, kindly face, holding a 
child in her arms. 

At length they reached a side door, and hurry- 
ing up a long hallway, came to a simple little room 
where a woman in long robes sat sewing. Lutetia 
called her Mother Geneveva, and wondered to see 
the queen fall sobbing into her arms. 

From this day great changes took place in the 
palace and in Soissons. The Gauls quickly found 
out that one conqueror is as evil as another. Clovis 
proclaimed himself king of middle Gaul, and tried 
to rule his kingdom as the Romans did ; but he and 
his warriors only became more and more absurd. 
The queen lived in the cloisters with the nuns and 



130 CLOVIS THE FBANK. 

the women of the Roman household. Clovis, with 
his wild soldiery, made the beautiful palace a wild 
and terrible place. 

All this while, the priests pleaded with King 
Clovis, and the gentle-hearted queen besought him 
to become a Christian. In his heart Clovis feared 
the great dark churches and the quiet, soft-spoken 
priests ; and he had small use for the pity and 
mercy and repentance which were preached to 
him. His own gods, Odin and Thor, were very 
much more to his mind ; but he was a keen, shrewd 
man. He saw that this Christianity was a power 
in the land which he had conquered. He made 
up his mind to take this power into his own 
hands.' One day before going out to a battle, he 
called Queen Clothilde to him, and bade her pray 
that he might win the day, which she promised 
faithfully to do. That day he won a great victory. 

Pleased with a faith so useful to his own pur- 
poses, the king called his nobles and churchmen 
together, and not only announced that he himself 
would become a Christian, but that all his war- 
riors must as well. They set aside one whole day 
for the baptisms, and the heathen Franks of sun- 
rise were Christian Franks at sunset, while every 
church bell in the land rang peals of joy. 

Clovis, now fancying himself a Christian, looked 
about to see how he might use this new power to 




The Baptism of Clovis. 



From the painting by Blanc. 



CLOVIS THE FBANK. 133 

his own advantage. He and his hordes were Salic 
Franks. He knew that the Ripuarian Franks, a 
gentler tribe than his own wild warriors, had con- 
quered southern Gaul, and adopted its religion. 
He heard the priests say that the religion of south- 
ern Gaul was not the true sort which he himself 
had adopted. Clovis thought it over. Northern 
Gaul had been too easily conquered. He longed 
for a battle with good stout Franks ; he longed 
for more lands, more power. He and his chief- 
tains had long talks, and roared wild war songs 
to Odin and Thor. 

Then he called together his Gallic nobles and 
churchmen, and loving their religion not at all, 
and themselves less, he said craftily : " It is time 
southern Gaul learned to bow to our religion. I 
shall go and conquer it." He was as good as his 
word. He not only conquered southern Gaul, but 
every other province in Gaul, and took them away 
from Rome. Then he placed his throne in the city 
of Paris, and changed the name of the land from 
Gaul to the Kingdom of the Franks, or France, as 
it was thereafter called. Clovis made France a 
country, and was its first king. 

It was that conquering hand of Clovis, a strong 
man in a time of great weakness, which laid the 
foundations for the greatness of France. 



THE DWARF OF ATTILA THE HUN. 

TO the westward of Constantinople lies a 
great plain, well watered by a broad 
stream. Here the grass grows thickly 
and plentifully, and to this day it is noted for its 
fine pasturage. On a day long ago, shepherds 
tending their flocks upon this grassy plain saw 
suddenly a crowd of horsemen crossing it. They 
came from the west, and so thick and so fast that 
they seemed a dark cloud rising upon the blue 
horizon, and spreading over the land. The shep- 
herds in fear drove their flocks toward the foot- 
hills, and wringing their hands, called aloud to 
each other, "Fly, fly, it is Attila ! It is Attila 
and the Huns ! ' Only Demos, watching his flock 
in a quiet place sheltered by bushes, never stirred, 
as the horsemen whirled nearer and nearer, and 
the flocks fled bleating in every direction. 

Demos, a tall lad of fifteen, in rough shep- 
herd's clothes, watched his sheep with a careful 
eye, yet let it sometimes wander to a certain little 
hillock near which he was sitting. Sticking in the 
sand of this little hillock, was a short-bladed, rusty 

134 



THE DWARF OF ATTILA THE HUN. 135 

dagger. Early that morning Demos, leading his 
sheep to this fresh pasture spot, had seen with 
awe the dagger sticking in the hillock. " The 
war god has come/' he murmured softly under his 
breath. u The war god has left his dagger for a 
sign, and I have been led here to fulfill it ! ' 

It was, therefore, with eyes flashing with excite- 
ment that he saw the leader of the flying horse- 
men suddenly halt in the midst of the plain, and 
in a short space of time the grass-green meadows 
were dotted with a wilderness of tents, while 
crowds of thirsty, weary horses crowded to the 
riverside to drink. Beyond the river, hidden by 
his bushes, Demos watched. In the midst of this 
sudden upspringing of black roofed tents, which 
lay spread like a pall over the sunny plain, one 
stood in the center higher and larger than all 
the rest, whose texture was cloth of gold. Rich 
fringes drooped from its edges, and Demos knew 
it as the canopy of a great eastern emperor. 

" I saw it spread above the head of the Emperor 
Theodosius, when I was attending a procession in 
Constantinople,' ' thought the lad. " Has Attila 
stolen it, or received it as a gift ? " 

Presently troops of Huns came down to the 
riverside for water. Their gigantic figures and 
hideous faces terrified even brave little Demos. 
Who might escape from the fury of these horri- 



136 THE DWARF OF ATTILA THE HUN. 

ble savages ? He drew nearer his mystic dagger, 
and calling softly to his sheep, crouched down \evy 
still. Now the twilight began to cast its peaceful 
stillness over the plain, and in the west a silver 
star shone clearly. And then, while Demos 
watched, the dagger loosened mysteriously from 
the soft sand, slipped downward, and gently fell 
against his right hand. 

" The sign ! " he whispered, picking it up in fear. 
" Behold, I must take this dagger to the chieftain 
Attila ! " 

Quickly he ate his simple supper of dates, and led 
his flock of sheep to the fold. Binding his holiday 
sash about his waist, he picked up the dagger, and 
swiftly threading the little sheep paths, he ran 
down to a shallow place in the river, and picked 
his way across to the opposite plain. As he wound 
his way in among the tents, coarse shouts, hideous 
laughter, and low cries met his ear. Grasping his 
dagger closer, he hurried forward. 

At length he reached the great tent of Attila, 
the chief. The sides were hung with curious 
striped draperies stiff with gold thread, plundered, 
no doubt, from Persia. Above the entrance-way 
there swung a lamp beautifully jeweled, and giving 
forth a dim yellowish light, while it shed abroad 
at the same time a heavy rich perfume. 

Standing directly beneath this lamp a figure met 




"A Strange Figure met Demos's Glance." 



THE DWARF OF ATTILA THE HUN. 139 

Demos's glance, so strange and horrible that the 
lad had all he could do t to suppress a cry of horror, 
believing as he did that he looked upon some imp 
straight from the infernal regions. The creature 
was very small, with a twisted, misshapen body and 
enormous flat feet. His head was as large as his 
body was small, and his features were very ugly. 
Only the eyes, keen, clear, and gray, with their 
direct, straightforward glance, gave him a claim to 
be considered human. These eyes, wonderful in 
their intelligence, were now intently fixed upon 
Demos. 

The dwarf wore a robe of heavily embroidered 
silk, covered with rows of silver bells which tinkled 
at his every movement with a charming musical 
chime. This tinkling sound was very soft, and 
not at all disturbing. Demos, trying to find a 
word to say, stared hard at this little figure and 
continued to clutch his rusty dagger. The dwarf, 
perceiving his fright, stepped forward, and making a 
low bow said, " You wish to see my master, Attila ? ' : 

" Yes," answered Demos, softly. " I bring a 
sign to Attila." 

u From the Emperor Theodosius of Constanti- 
nople ? " asked the dwarf, drawing back a step. 

" From no living being," returned Demos. " The 
war god hath left his sign for Attila, in my poor 
sheep pasture." 



140 THE DWABF OF ATTILA THE HUN. 

The dwarf sprang at him with a sudden melo- 
dious chime of all his silver bells, crying, " Is it 
the sacred sign of the dagger ? Has the dagger 
been sent to Attila ?' : For answer, Demos held 
it forth. Without a word the dwarf disappeared. 

In a very few minutes he returned, motioning 
to Demos to accompany him. Demos now passed 
under the doorway of the chieftain's huge tent and 
followed the dwarf over soft carpets and between 
silken hangings, all lit by the soft glow from jew- 
eled lamps, into an apartment where all this luxury 
suddenly disappeared. Upon a pile of freshly cut 
grass, surrounded by weapons, and the trappings 
and saddles of horses, his war gear flung aside, 
and his powerful body clad only in shirt and 
trousers of coarse linen, sat Attila. When he bent 
his ferocious glance upon Demos, his eye struck 
even more terror to the lad than the dwarf's ugli- 
ness had done. 

But though he looked at Demos, he spoke to 
the dwarf : " So, Jovan, my little Jovan, it is you 
who bring to me the messenger of the gods. It 
is fitting this should be, little Chime, for of all 
living creatures, which are as vermin upon the 
earth, Attila loves only thee." With a move- 
ment of his great arm, he tossed Jovan up to his 
right shoulder, where he sat looking like some 
curious misshapen doll. 



THE DWAEF OF ATTILA THE HUN. 141 

The voice with which Attila addressed Jovan 
was so gentle and tender that Demos lost his shud- 
dering fear; and when Attila turned to him and 
said, "What brings you to me?' : he answered 
fearlessly, " This dagger. I am a shepherd of 
these plains. Beyond the river I feed my flocks. 
Yesterday, seeking fresh pasture, I found a spot 
where the grass grew thick ; and leading my 
sheep there early this morning I saw upon the 
very hillock, where yesterday I observed nothing, 
this rusty dagger, sticking in the sand. You 
know, great chief, what is the sign of this dagger. 
He to whom it is sent is the warrior of the gods. 
Naught can defeat or conquer him. I, a peace- 
ful shepherd lad, have nothing to do with signs 
of war. To you it is given thus to conquer ; '" 
and Demos laid the dagger in Attila' s outstretched 
hand. The chief's hand closed on it, and as he 
looked up, Demos beheld such a fierce light in his 
eyes that he cowered and trembled. "Fear not," 
said Attila, noting his fright; "but thy sheep- 
watching days are over. Thou remainest with 
me." 

" Attila, Scourge of God ! " cried Jovan. 

"Scourge of God," echoed Attila, shaking the 
dagger aloft. " I, and I alone will rule the Huns, 
and in our might we will sweep Europe ! Fear, 
tremble, ye silk-skinned children of the west ! 



142 THE DWARF OF ATTILA THE HUN. 

Attila will destroy you as the locusts destroy the 
grass ! Aye, where Attila has trod, all grass shall 
wither and die ! I am the Scourge of God ! Attila 
the Hun." 

Jovan climbed down from his shoulder and ran 
to Demos. "Never fear him, Demos," he cried; 
" thee and me Attila will never injure. Come, let 
us put a fitting dress upon thee." 

" But my sheep ! " cried Demos ; " I cannot leave 
my sheep. Let me deliver them to my master." 

"Nay," cried the chief, "not so far as that 
wilt thou go again from Attila. The gods gave 
thee to me with the dagger. I will send servants 
to scatter thy sheep. Abide, boy, in the tent, and 
have no care. Attila trusts thee." 

Jovan led Demos to a part of the tent filled with 
carved cedar chests, and from these he drew forth a 
robe of dull green silk which he flung upon Demos. 
About his neck he wound strings of emeralds, and 
upon his head placed a snowy turban, caught with 
an emerald of costliest value. "Demos," he said 
gravely, " little dost thou know of a court or 
courtly ways ; but I, Jovan, know both the ways 
of a court and the thoughts of people. I saw to 
the bottom of thy heart as thou stoodest in the 
tent door. It is as crystal, clear as the emerald in 
thy turban. Henceforward, watch the eye of Jovan, 
learn to know its every glance, and act quickly." 



THE DWAEF OF ATTILA THE HUN. 143 

He spread a mat for Demos beside his own, and 
in spite of his great change of fortune the shep- 
herd lad slept soundly. Next morning Demos was 
left at the tent door, while Attila, with Jovan 
upon his shoulder, rode out into the camp. 
Toward noon Demos spied a strange company of 
men and riders coming up to the tent door. As 
doorkeeper he arose, alert and watchful. These 
dark-skinned strangers wore curious ^ white gar- 
ments, and rode pure white, highly bred horses. 

They said they wished to speak with Attila 
the Hun. They came from Gaiseric the Vandal, 
ruler of Africa, and their business was pressing. 
Demos summoned Edecon, chief counselor to At- 
tila; and Edecon, richly dressed in silks, led 
the visitors to a rich apartment. When Attila 
returned, he led both Jovan and Demos into 
the apartment where the visitors sat, and kept 
them at his side. Demos learned that Gaiseric 
the Vandal sent an invitation to Attila the 
Hun to come with his hordes and invade Europe, 
thus to punish iEtius, Emperor of the West. 
While Attila hesitated, with a little chime of soft 
bells Jovan moved suddenly. The eyes of the 
dwarf and the chieftain met. 

"Tell Gaiseric I send him my friendship," said 
Attila. " Later, if the dagger points to Europe, 
he shall see me," and with this unsatisfactory 



144 THE DWAKF OF ATTILA THE HUN. 

message the African messengers were forced to be 
content. 

Late that evening Jovan suddenly summoned 
Demos, and bade him put on once more his shep- 
herd's apparel. They mounted two fleet Tar- 
tar horses and rode straight onward to the gates 
of Constantinople. Then for a day and a night 
they hid in the outskirts of the city ; but at sunrise 
the following morning Jovan brought out the 
skin of a sheep and wrapped himself in it so 
well, that Demos, staring down at him, could 
have sworn it was only a dead sheep lying upon 
the ground. " Fling me over your shoulder," 
directed Jovan, " and go toward the great church, 
past the gardens, as if to lay your gift upon the 
altar. Keep the sheep's head over your shoulder. 
When we reach the palace, go to the kitchens and 
offer to sell your sheep. They will ask you how 
long it has been killed, and you will say it has 
been dead three days. They will then drive you 
forth, and as you go, say to the porter of the palace 
that you have lost your way, and ask him to 
direct you to the gate through which the soldiers 
passed." 

Demos, wondering, did all this. Carrying his 
strange sheep carefully, he was not a little enter- 
tained with the sights and sounds of brilliant Con- 
stantinople. Once safely through the gate, Jovan 



THE DWARF OF ATTILA THE HUN. 145 

flung off the sheep's skin, and mounting their swift 
horses, dwarf and lad were soon in Attila's presence 
again. Then to his surprise, Demos heard Jo van 
say to Attila, " Master, I have learned that Theo- 
dosius, Emperor of the East, has sent a large army 
to Africa against Gaiseric the Vandal. At sunset 
they will have gone a day's journey." Shortly 
after, Edecon the minister rode away to Constan- 
tinople, while the Huns, striking camp, moved 
rapidly northward in battle array, putting to fire 
and sword town after town ; and the ravages were 
terrible. But wherever Attila went, there went 
that silken tent ; and within it, taking no part in 
the battles, lived Demos and the dwarf Jovan. 

At length, w r hen seventy towns had been de- 
stroyed, Edecon, appearing for Attila before the 
Emperor Theodosius, demanded that he recall the 
troops which he had sent to Africa against Gaiseric, 
and the emperor, hating and fearing Attila, was 
forced to submit. 

Attila at length called a halt to his ravages and 
pitched his camp once more in a deep valley, sur- 
rounded with dark and frowning mountains. Such 
a country Demos had never seen as met his eyes 
upon a clear and sunlit morning, when he and 
Jovan went out into the palace garden. Attila 
had seized, for the time, one of the summer palaces 
of Theodosius, built of teak-wood and bamboo, 



146 THE DWARF OF ATTILA THE HUN. 

where the greatest splendor of furniture was mixed 
with all the barbarism of a savage camp life. 

Demos, glad to escape the clash and din of the 
soldiery, walked quietly along the neglected garden 
paths, looking down upon the quaint, waddling 
figure of Jovan, tinkling his silver bells. Jovan 
appeared to be uneasy. "Edecon has not re- 
turned from the court of Theodosius," he burst 
forth at length ; " he should have come to-day. 
At sunrise he was due. Believe me, Demos, Theo- 
dosius meditates treachery. We must watch if 
Edecon returns not at noon." 

Noon came, but no Edecon. Then Jovan, seek- 
ing out Attila, found him sleeping upon the bare 
floor of his apartment, surrounded by the greatest 
disorder. Jovan's keen eyes flashed over him. 
Plunging into a pile of cushions near by, he curled 
himself up among them so that he appeared to be. 
one of them ; and Demos, wrapping his own stal- 
wart form in a length of silk curtain which lay 
near by, flung himself down not far from Attila. 
Thus an hour passed away. Attila, having slept 
little for many days and nights, slumbered heavily. 

At length a servant of the household, coming 
to the doorway to announce a visitor, halted, per- 
ceiving the sleeping chief, and motioning silently, 
drew the tapestry aside to admit the chief's min- 
ister, Edecon. For a moment Edecon paused upon 



THE DWARF OF ATTILA THE HUN. 147 

the threshold, seeing Attila asleep, and then thrust- 
ing his hand to his side glided softly across the floor. 

By this time the watchful Demos was suspicious. 
The figure was Edecon's surely, but that long 
gliding walk was not that of the prime minister. 
Demos sprang up and flung off the curtain. As 
Edecon stooped over the sleeping chief, Demos 
caught the swift flash of a dagger and heard a 
shrill scream, and the chime of Jo van's silver bells. 
Instantly Attila sprang up, and Demos saw him 
catch Edecon at the throat, while Jovan clung to 
the hand holding the dagger, biting it fiercely with 
his teeth. Demos struck a gong for the guard, 
and Edecon was surrounded. Then the robes were 
stripped from him and there stood revealed an 
assassin, a Roman soldier of Theodosius. 

The savage Huns would have slain the man then 
and there, but Attila, with a curious smile, protected 
him. " Nay," he said, "let him find my minister 
before sunset, or I will light his body to be the 
torch of the search." In a few hours' time the 
real Edecon arrived at the palace. While return- 
ing to Attila he had been overpowered by the 
soldiers of the emperor, who had been sent to es- 
cort him back to his master, and had been bound 
and stripped and hidden in a cave. Then Attila 
took the false Edecon, dressed him again as his 
minister, and next morning when certain arabassa- 



148 THE DWARF OF ATTILA THE HUK 

dors from the emperor arrived at the palace, hoping 
to hear of Attila's death, Attila himself delivered 
this false Edecon over to them, saying with the 
greatest scorn in his voice, " Tell Theodosius, your 
master, that thus the king, Attila, pardons the 
treachery of his slave, Theodosius." 

For a number of months Attila and his hosts 
lay quietly in the mountain passes, the great chief 
plotting and planning to take Constantinople. 
Meanwhile Jovan delighted to teach and train 
Demos in all the arts of soldiery, which he, tiny 
as he was, understood well ; and in a short time 
the ignorant shepherd lad rode among the wildest 
Huns, and grew so strong and sinewy that he 
could swing his valiant little teacher and trainer 
upon his hand and balance him there as lightly as 
a feather. 

The Emperor Theodosius died and was succeeded 
by Marcian, who fortified Constantinople so strongly 
against Attila that the great chief felt it useless 
to attempt to take it, and turned his thoughts 
upon Gaiseric's invitation to invade western Eu- 
rope. Here iEtius, Emperor of the West, held 
sway. On the day when Attila sounded his 
battle-cry, and pushed forward through the dark 
northern forests to descend into Gaul, Jovan leapt 
to his shoulder in joy, and Demos rode with the 
fighting men. 



THE DWARF OF ATTILA THE HUN. 149 

The terrible spirit of conquest possessed Attila ; 
he became indeed the scourge of God. Across the 
Rhine and down into Gaul he swept, utterly de- 
stroying everything he touched, and striking awful 
terror into all the people of Europe. At last he 
lay before Chalons, and surrounded it with his 
vast army. Within the city the people were 
weeping and praying for help ; and just as Attila, 
flushed with success, sallied out to crush the city, 
up came the Emperor iEtius, with all Europe at 
his back. 

Then was fought a terrible battle. The great 
Hun with Demos at his side and his hordes be- 
hind him, charged in vain, and Jovan at night- 
fall, sitting in the tent door listening to the 
roar of the onslaught, tinkled uneasily his little 
silver bells. At length he caught sight of 
Demos riding madly toward him, leading a band 
of Huns in retreat. Jovan could not believe 
it. Attila overcome ! Attila conquered ! But it 
was so ! Jovan uttered several swift commands. 
Instantly the conquered Huns, dismounting, 
snatched their saddles from their horses and 
built up rapidly a great pile, upon the top of 
which, mad with grief, danced Jovan. At its foot, 
stern and silent, stood Demos with a lighted torch. 

At last, the day lost, into the camp dashed Attila, 
while close to the rear of his guard, Gaul, Frank, 



150 THE DWAKF OF ATTILA THE HUN. 

Goth, and Roman gave chase. Seeing the great 
pile, with Jovan upon it beckoning him, he climbed 
to its top and swung the little dwarf to his shoul- 
der, where Jovan's two arms crept about his chief's 
neck, and Jovan lay suddenly calm and still. 

Here stood Attila, surrounded by his Huns on 
this strange funeral pile, with Demos ready to 
apply the torch, rather than let the Europeans 
take his master prisoner. 

And the armies halted at that strange sight. 
They dared pursue the Huns no farther, and so 
they let Attila retreat unharmed into Germany. 

A year later, in his own royal village on the 
Danube, Attila the Hun lay dead, and curled at 
his feet, the little bells silenced forever, was Jovan, 
with the rusty dagger w T hich had been found by 
Demos, plunged by his own hand into his heart. 



THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GRAPES. 

ICELAND was discovered by Naddod, the viking. 
To it there came one day, in a scuta or long 
boat, old Thorwald of Norway and his son, 
Erik the Red, so called because he had red hair, 
and they settled in Iceland. Thorwald had one 
day killed a man in Norway, in a fit of temper, and 
had been forced to leave Norwav forever. 

Erik the Red had his father's fiery temper. He 
married Thorhild and went to live in southern Ice- 
land. There he had two neighbors, Thorgest and 
Herjulf. 

To Erik was born a son called Leif, who was of 
about the same age as Bjarni, the son of Herjulf. 
The boys hunted and fished together, but Bjarni 
loved trading much better than wild sea roving. 

Everything went peacefully. Bjarni built a boat 
and went over the sea to Denmark, trading. 

Leif once went sailing over the sea with the sea 
rovers to northern England. 

One day Thorgest borrowed the seat logs of a 
boat belonging to Erik the Red. Erik sent for 
them, but Thorgest refused to return them. 

151 



152 THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GRAPES. 

Then up flashed Erik's wild temper, and in a 
quarrel with Thorgest he killed him. As a punish- 
ment he must now leave Iceland, as his father had 
been driven from Norway. 

Getting his boats and family together, he set out 
during the last of the winter, and turning the prows 
of the boats westward, where never land had been 
found, sullenly sailed away. Herjulf, his friend, 
watched him go. u If thou diest not in wild water, 
return to tell me ! " he cried. 

Erik sailed and sailed. The winter passed and 
the spring came on. One day at the mouth of a 
bay of blue water he sighted an island. Its slopes 
were grassy green. Naming it Erik's Island, the 
old viking went ashore with his family and built a 
home there. 

Then he sent for Herjulf of Iceland to come to 
Greenland and live there. Herjulf packed his 
goods and brought all his family. Meanwhile 
Erik had left the island, and laid out a farm or 
boer farther up the bay. He named the boer 
Brattahlid. 

Herjulf, landing on Erik's Island, himself built a 
boer on a point of land west of it, which he named 
Herjulfsnes. 

Bjarni came back to Iceland with his trading ship 
and found that his father had gone away. Then 
he steered for Greenland. At first he missed it, 



THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GRAPES. 153 

but sighted an unknown shore still farther west- 
ward. Returning, he found Greenland, and told 
Leif of this unknown land. Leif's blood leapt. He 
begged Erik to set forth and find it. Erik, now 
too old, dared not make another venture, but he 
bought Bj ami's boat for Leif. Bjarni willingly 
sold it and stayed at Herjulfsnes and started a 
trading center there. Leif sailed bravely away 
into the west. Many months had passed, but he 
did not return. Spring came, but still no Leif. 
People had begun to wonder if the brave sailor had 
sailed his last voyage. 

A day late in the spring was nearing its close. 
It was the time of the year for the bleaching 
of the linen. The blue waters of Erik's Bay 
glistened in the sunshine. In Brattahlid, far 
up the bay, they had held a merry-making. The 
grass of the tun, as the bleaching place was called, 
was green in the boer ; and the women of the house 
of Herjulf had come up that day, from the boer on 
the lower shore of the bay, to help with the linen- 
bleaching at Brattahlid. It was mid afternoon 
now, and with merry laughter the people of Brat- 
tahlid were all going down to the shore together to 
watch the departure of their visitors and helpers in 
the boats. 

In the bow of one of the boats stood Bjarni lean- 
ing on an oar. The spring air was bright with tiny, 



154 THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GRAPES. 

flitting butterflies, and as one passed him, he struck 
idly at it with his oar blade. Immediately a saucy 
voice from the crowd called to him, "Ho, yo ! Bjarni 
plays with butterflies while Leif sails to find fresh 
lands ! " 

" Tis that little witch thing, Gudrid," muttered 
Bjarni, sulkily, as he searched the crowd over for 
the teasing voice. It was Gudrid indeed, grand- 
daughter of Erik the Red, in her kirtle of blue 
and belt of silver, with her locks of shining gold 
falling below her waist. But he could not see her, 
for she was hiding behind brawny Thorfinn, a lad 
of fifteen, who hid her well. Thorfinn was the son 
of the skald, or singer, of Herjulf. He had a sad, 
strong face. Thorfinn smiled but seldom, yet 
when he did smile it was as when the sun breaks 
suddenly through a cloud on a stormy day. 

The women began clambering into the boats. 
" Why are you left with us ? ' suddenly asked 
little Gudrid, slipping her hand into Thorfinn's. 
"Because my father, Herjulf s skald, is ill, and I 
am to sing sagas to your grandfather, Erik the 
Red, in his place, and listen when he talks, that my 
father may make a saga of his deeds." 

" Some day you will be a skald," said little Gud- 
rid, admiringly, as she looked up into Thorfinn's 
face. 

" I would rather be a chief and a sea rover," 



THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GRAPES. 155 

returned Thorfinn, looking down the bay toward 
Erik's Island, which lay like a line of blue mist 
at its mouth. " When I hear the sagas, my heart 
burns to own a ship and sail the wild seas, and see 
new lands; but I am a thrall, the son of a thrall/' 
and the boy's great blue eyes flashed. 

" To be a skald is a gift of the gods/' said 
Gudrid. 

" Hafgerding, my father, was a free skald in our 
Hebrides," continued Thorfinn, bitterly. " But 
Herjulf, friend of Erik the Red, captured him and 
made him his slave. He is treated with honor 
because he is a skald ; but it is hard for free blood 
to bend to slavery." 

Little ten-year-old Gudrid did not fall into his 
bitter mood. She watched Bjarni's boats leaping 
over the blue waters. " Bjarni has the merchant's 
soul," she said, curling her pretty lips. "He 
loves his trading wharves in Norway better than 
the finding of new wild lands like Leif . Day by day 
grandfather sits over the fire and talks of Leif. 
For all that he is so old, grandfather would have 
gone with Leif to find the new wild lands had he 
not stumbled and fallen, and so taken that as a 
warning of the gods to stay at home." 

Thorfinn was watching Bjarni, too. " You're 
right, he has a merchant's soul," he said. " When 
Herjulf lived in Iceland, before he came here to 



156 THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GRAPES. 

live with his friend Erik the Red in Greenland, 
Bjarni came trading every winter from Norway. 
And then when he found one winter that his 
father had moved to Greenland, he thought only 
of reaching this place with his loaded boat, and 
selling his wares. He passed by Greenland and 
found a new strange shore — but think you he 
would land ! Nay, he must find Greenland only, 
and trade off his shipload." 

" Uncle Leif neither ate nor slept after he heard 
of the new land/' cried Gudrid. 

" Leif Eriksson is a hero," said the boy. " I 
stood on the cape and saw him disappear into the 
west. Thirty-five free rovers pulled his oars. Oh, 
if I were but free and a viking! ' 

u Oh, if I were but free and a viking ! "echoed 
little Gudrid. " I hate the loom and the linen ! 
I'd rather be in a boat all day long than weaving, 
weaving, weaving and spinning, spinning, spinning ! 
I am a slave too, Thorfinn," she cried roguishly, 
swinging herself by his great arm. " You skalds 
sing the deeds of heroes, and we women weave 
them into tapestries. As for me, I have the soul 
of a berserker, and would like to die in battle and 
ride in the arms of a Valkyr upon a white horse 
to Valhalla ! ' She began dancing a wild ber- 
serker dance, her golden hair flying in the wind. 
As Thorfinn watched her, a slow smile broke over 



THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GEAPES. 157 

his face. " You'll ride a flying horse yet, maybe," 
he said, "but it won't be a Valkyr's." 

The blue waters were turning gray. A chill 
wind was creeping in from the east. 

"I think I'd like the fire," said Gudrid. They 
left the shore together, climbing the long steep hill 
that led to the boer. When they came to the 
large gateway of the high fence which surrounded 
it, Thorfinn's face darkened again. His eyes 
swept the buildings in the great square. 

There was the hall for the daily living, the huge 
hall for the entertainment of guests, the sleeping 
house, and near it the women's house. In the midst 
lay the tun, a large square of green grass, now rich 
with the first sap of spring, and upon it lay the 
bleaching webs of linen. 

Wild little Gudrid frowned upon the linen. 
" To-morrow, if the sun shines, it means that I 
must dance all day long with a watering-pot about 
that linen," she cried. 

" In the Hebrides," said Thorfinn, " my jarl's 
drinking hall was larger than this." 

"And in Norway," retorted little Gudrid, "my 
grandfather's drinking hall was ten times larger 
than this. What matters that ? He did not dis- 
cover Norway, but he did discover this Green- 
land." 

The boer was a busy place. The cattle in their 



158 THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GRAPES. 

sheds were lowing as they were milked. Into the 
drinking hall thralls were hurrying to and fro, fill- 
ing the mead vats from the great vat. Bondmaids 
ran up and down the long outside flights of stairs 
and galleries, carrying the bowls of curds for supper. 
Gudrid slipped off to the women's house ; but Thor- 
finn slowly entered Erik's hall and passed behind 
the tables and the benches with their high seats, to 
the great open space at the farther end, where 
before the fire of huge blazing logs, under the ceil- 
ing of carved and blackened rafters, sat Erik the 
Red. 

The great viking was an old man now. His 
hair and beard, once fiery red, were grown white. 
His tough and knotted limbs lounged quietly in 
the chair. Only his piercing eyes still showed the 
rough and warlike temper that had made him 
more feared than loved. 

"Bring the harp," he cried, spying Thorfinn, 
u and sing me your father's saga of my flight from 
Norway, where my father Thorwald was an out- 
law because he slew a man. Sing of Thorwald' s 
flight over the rough seas, where the foam hissed 
day by day under the flying prow, as we sped to 
Iceland. Sing of Iceland and my own anger, 
when my loan, the loan of the seat logs of my boat, 
was not returned to me ; and how I, too, Erik the 
Red, slew a man, and was outlawed. Then in my 



THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GRAPES. 159 

boat I fled to the west and discovered this land, 
this Greenland. And now my son, my son Leif, 
is away in the west. Sing of that unknown land 
which he shall find, and where " — he raised a pro- 
phetic hand — " the sons of the blood of vikings 
shall rule and reign forever." 

His roaring voice, toned in the gales over sea 
waves, woke a slumbering fire in Thorfinn. He 
flung his arms around the towering harp and 
struck some thundering chords. Then his fingers 
leaped over the strings, weaving a melody as of 
the dancing of the waves, and he sang to Erik. 
He sang all the sagas, from that of Thorwald in 
Norway to that of Leif returning with the spring 
from his first adventure, and as the household 
assembled for supper, still Thorfinn sang. After 
supper, Gudrid, sitting in a chimney nook, listened 
and drank in Thorfinn' s singing. 

" Such a skald should be a freeman, not a 
thrall," she whispered in Erik's ear. 

The next day was cold and stormy. A white 
mist crept up and down the bay. The linen on 
the tun was damp enough from the moist breath 
of the mist. In the drinking hall the looms were 
brought out, the spinning wheels put before the 
fire, and at her loom sat Gudrid weaving. With- 
out, the wind shrieked and wailed. It roared its 
sagas into her listening ears. The women's gossip 



160 THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GRAPES. 

passed her unheeded. By and by Thorfinn rushed 
through the hall in his fur sea coat, with the oars 
over his shoulder. 

Gudrid dropped her shuttle and seized her own 
sea cloak. She pulled a cap of velvet over her ears, 
and leaping and bounding, chased Thorfinn to the 
shore where he was pushing off his long boat. 

With a dash and a spring she had leaped into it. 
Thorfinn laughed. " What will your mother say?" 
he asked. 

u She'll say the Norns sing of my terrible fate/' 
said Gudrid. " Let the Norns sing, then. Where 
are you going, Thorfinn ? ' 

a To Erik's Island, where your grandfather lived 
when he first explored this bay, that I may see a 
spot he tells of." 

Down the bay sped the boat, and Thorfinn sang 
as he steered, while Gudrid sat silent, watching the 
dark rolling waves all about her, her cheeks grow- 
ing a deeper and deeper red in the salt spray. 
Rounding the point of the island, they came upon 
the settlement of Herjulf, lying behind its high 
guarding fence. Below it, the tall headland of the 
cape jutted into the sea, and beyond that lay the 
wide ocean. A ray of golden sunlight from part- 
ing clouds struck the gray waters. The mists were 
lifting. Thorfinn moored his boat below the head- 
land, and the two children roamed the desolate 




; 'A Boat! Two Boats! They are coming Here.'" 



THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GRAPES. 163 

shore. Gudrid whirled her arms and screamed 
up at the gulls, and they screamed downward at 
her. 

Suddenly over the waters came another sound, a 
low hoarse shout. Thorfinn leapt upon a rock and 
strained his eyes into the w r est. " A boat ! r 
he cried, " and 'tis not Bjarni's ! Bjarni's is 
moored in the inlet. A boat ! Two boats ! They 
are coming here. 'Tis Leif ! I know by the prow, 
'tis Leif ! I know the scuta he bought from 
Bjarni ! " 

" Leif ! ' cried Gudrid, now wild with excite- 
ment ; "Uncle Leif come home! Oh, what shall 
we do, Thorfinn? What shall we do?' : 

" Take the boat," said Thorfinn, " and go to 
Brattahlid. Carry the news to your grandfather, 
that Leif is returned. I stay here." 

Gudrid fled. She loosed the boat, and all alone, 
sailed up the bay till she came to Brattahlid. The 
wind was against her, and it was late when she ran 
in to land, Thralls were setting wheels and looms 
aside, and Erik the Red stood in the drinking hall 
looking down into the fire, as Gudrid came flying 
in. " Grandfather," she cried, "Leif is returned! 
Leif is come back ! " 

Erik turned to her. " How know you ? " he 
shouted. " Thorfinn knew the boat," declared 
Gudrid. Then the old viking called right and left 



164 THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GKAPES. 

to sons and thralls, and all ran to the boats on the 
shore. 

Thorhild, the stately grandmother, and Freydis 
her daughter, who was Gudrid's mother, now be- 
gan great preparations. Gudrid herself, quite 
changed into a housewife, fell to the work with a 
will. Carved chests were opened, and banners and 
beautiful stuffs were hung about the great guest 
hall. The cushions from the high seats were 
beaten and placed opposite each other down the 
centre of the long hall. Great drinking horns 
bound in silver and gold were put upon the tables. 
The fresh fires of the guest hall sparkled and 
roared. Huge vats at the ends of the tables 
brimmed with ale and mead. Gudrid loaded 
trenchers with bread. Large bowls of white curds 
stood upon the tables, and then Gudrid herself ran 
and put on # a scarlet dress, bound her golden locks 
with a silver fillet, covered her arms with bracelets, 
and so waited to receive her uncle, the hero, Leif 
Eriksson. 

That was a great evening at Brattahlid. All 
the household went down to the shore to see the 
ships come up, which they did in the evening. 
First came Leif s vessel followed by his father's 
boat. Then came Herjulf s household, and side 
by side with Herjulf's scuta a strange craft. 
Gudrid stood on a high bluff overlooking the 



THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GRAPES. 165 

water, watching the boats pass by her. She 
glanced at her Uncle Leif carelessly : after all it 
was not the first time he had come home from a 
long voyage. But where was Thorfinn ? She did 
not see him until with a bound he leaped ashore 
after old Tyrker, her uncle's foster father. 

Gudrid was glad to see Tyrker. " Now I shall 
have stories/' she thought. Then while the great 
crowd surged to and fro with shouts and merri- 
ment upon the shore, she watched the thralls 
running up to the house and bringing great 
empty mead vats down to the shore. From 
Leif's ship they began to lift loose bunches of 
strange-looking, reddish-green fruit to the vats, 
and carry them up to the hall of feasting. It was 
brilliant with log and peat fires, which roared from 
the great hearths, and with torches flaring upon 
the walls. By Leif s seat, which was the high seat 
opposite his father's,, stood the harp of the skald, 
ready for the saga. Gudrid ran to a vat and 
caught up a bunch of the strange fruit, clinging 
yet to its vine. Her eyes widened in wonder, for 
she had never in her life before seen grapes. 

While she examined the cluster in open admira- 
tion, Thorfinn entered the hall. Seeing the 
little figure in scarlet, he ran to her. He was 
in gala dress also, and looked very noble and hand- 
some in his fur-trimmed coat of dark blue, with his 



166 THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GEAPES. 

golden locks far down upon his shoulders. " Gud- 
rid," he cried, " I am to sing the hero's saga 
to-night ! My father is too ill. I shall stand at 
Leif's right hand and sing of his deeds." 

"Oh," gasped Gudrid, "you a skald, Thorfinn! 
But how did you learn of Leif's deeds ? ' 

" Tyrker told me," said Thorfinn; "and lean 
see it all as though I had been there. They dis- 
covered a new great land, Gudrid, and named it 
Vinland, because there grows this strange vine 
bearing sweet fruit." 

Afterward it was a sight to see the vikings come 
into the drinking hall, roaring their sea song of 
conquest. Erik the Red took the high seat of 
honor facing the east. Opposite him sat his son 
Leif in the chair of the honored guest, facing the 
west. Beside Leif sat Bjarni, and beside Erik 
the Red sat Herjulf, his old friend, and Bjarni's 
father. 

When the tables were all filled, each man lifted 
his horn of mead, and raising a mighty shout of 
" Skoal, to Vinland ! Skoal ! " drank it off in a 
draught to Leif's honor. Gudrid, down at the end 
of the table with the women, where she could hear 
and see all, had admiring eyes for her fair-haired 
uncle with his sea-tanned cheeks and flowing mus- 
taches ; but, though he towered up there like a sea- 
god, tossing off his mead and laughing with joy at 



THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GKAPES. 167 

his home-coming, she had thoughts chiefly for 
Thorfinn. 

Thorfinn stood leaning upon his harp, pale and 
quiet. He was that night to sing his first saga as 
a skald. 

When hunger had been satisfied, and the mead 
was flowing freely, up spoke old Erik the Red. 
" Come, lad," he cried, " strike the harp. Sing of 
the deeds of heroes ! Sing of Erik the Red and 
Leif Eriksson." 

A moment's pause followed, a silence as when 
the wind is lulled during a great storm. Thor- 
finn struck the harp-strings, and a deep chord 
floated and vibrated through the room. Then, in 
a voice as sweet as the south wind when it wooes 
the shores of Greenland to its brief summer, he 
began his saga. He sang of the beauty of the 
ship, of the bravery of its rovers, and of the high 
dauntless courage of Leif ; then he sang of the 
life and the magic of the sea. He sang of the 
storm and the roaring gale, till through the crashes 
of his harmonies upon the harp one lived it all 
a°;ain. 

And then he described a new, strange shore, 
with low-lying woods, sands as white as snow, and 
rivers of clear, limpid water flowing out to the 
ocean. All over the land grew great wild vines, 
bearing sweet, luscious fruit ; and the leaves of 



168 THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GRAPES. 

the trees, when the frost touched them, turned 
to the crimson of hero's blood, and the gold of a 
bridal crown. He sang of Tyrker's disappearance 
from Leif's rude hut, and his return, bearing the 
grapevines over his shoulders. He sang of the 
islands discovered, and the new glaciers they had 
found. 

Then he described the return and the search 
for Greenland, and how at evening they had seen 
upon a rock men and a ship, with whom they 
had divided their cargo, and how they had sailed 
together to Erik's Bay. This was the deed of 
Leif Eriksson ; and then, striking several warlike 
chords, Thorfinn launched back into the well-known 
deeds of Erik the Red, and sang again the saga of 
the discovery of Greenland and the lion courage 
of the old sea-knight. He wound up with a lay 
to the friendship of Erik and Herjulf, and the 
binding into one of the deeds of Leif and Bjarni. 

It was a long saga, and while he sang, the mead 
horns had been silently emptied and filled many a 
time. 

" Well done, lad ! " cried old Herjulf, as he 
dashed the mead drops from his beard and quaffed 
a long draught to Thorfinn. " Truly, you are a 
skald like to the old Irish bard your grandfather. 
Say, what shall be paid you for your saga ? ' 

" Speak," interrupted old Erik, " what will you 



THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GRAPES. 169 

have, lad, for that viking's song?' Then Leif 
handed the boy his own mead horn, saying quietly, 
" Had you been there, you could have sung no 
better. Father Tyrker told you rarely well. 
How shall we pay you ? " 

Thorfinn spoke up nobly. " My grandsire, the 
Irish bard, was a free skald. Make a free skald of 
me. Give me an oar in a boat that goes to Vin- 
land. My father has money to buy my freedom. 
Let me, too, go out upon the sea." 

" Bold, bold ! ' cried Herjulf, frowning ; " next 
you will want to be a berserker." 

"Free shall he be though, Herjulf," roared old 
Erik the Red; " and you and I will sit together 
at his freeman's supper. The skald should ever 
be a free man. Let the lad be a rover if he 
will." 

Then Thorfinn struck the harp and sang of Her- 
julf s deeds in the Hebrides, and of his father's 
captivity and noble treatment at the hands of his 
captor ; and Herjulf said, " It is enough. You 
shall be free." 

Next morning Gudrid searched till she found 
Thorfinn working among the boats with the 
others. When he saw her, he gave her his rare 
smile. 

" See," she cried, "how one song makes a vi- 
king ! Now, Thorfinn, listen. When you are 



170 THE SAGA OF THE LAND OF GBAPES. 

gone with the others to Vinland, I will make 
a tapestry of you and your harp, singing the saga 
of the Land of Grapes." 

Thorfinn went twice to the Land of Grapes, and 
the second time when he returned he married 
little G-udrid, and they sailed away together to 
their home, in Thorfinn's own scuta. 



GODWIN AND KNUT. 

KING SVEIN of Denmark was a great warrior 
and a sea rover. In his own land he ruled 
with an iron hand, but his nobles and 
courtiers were very loyal to him, because he not 
only led them often into battle, but himself wielded 
the battle-ax fearlessly. 

Svein married twice. By his first marriage he 
had two daughters, one of whom, Astrid, was 
wedded to the great chief, Ulf Jarl of Norway. 
Thereafter he followed Svein in all his battles. 
Later in life, after the death of his first wife, Svein 
married a second time and had two sons, Knut and 
Harald. 

When Knut was only a baby, King Svein and 
his warriors went over to Saxon England and con- 
quered it by fire and sword. The Saxon king, 
Ethelred, with his little son, Edmund, was driven 
from the English throne, and to keep Ethelred out 
of his own land Svein and a great horde of Danes 
were obliged to go to England and settle there. 
Little Knut, however, was left to grow up in Den- 
mark, in charge of his father's faithful noble, 
Thorkel the High. 

171 



172 GODWIN AND KNUT. 

The Danes were scattered over all England. 
They took from the Saxons both their houses and 
lands. After a time it was not unusual in the 
English villages to find Saxon men married to 
Danish women, and Saxon women to Danish 
men. 

At length King Svein died in England. His 
nobles prepared their ships and set sail for Den- 
mark, that his body might be buried in his own 
land. Ethelred the Saxon was already dead. 

As soon as the Danish fleet was out of sight 
Ethelred's w 7 ife, Queen Emma, and her son, Ed- 
mund, hastened to London, and there, raising the 
Saxon banner, rallied a Saxon army and took pos- 
session of the country. 

Knut was ten years old when Svein died. As 
soon as he reached manhood he announced his 
intention of living in England himself. 

With bluff Ulf Jarl and Thorkel the High the 
young king and all his fleet set sail for London. 

Queen Emma heard of his coming and decided 
to fly to France. She entered a ship with an 
escort of smaller vessels, and was sailing down the 
Thames River as Knut's vessels came sailing up. 

He took her ship, compelled her to marry him, 
and carried her back to London town. 

Now the fate of England lay between Saxon 
Edmund and Danish Knut. All the Saxons rallied 



GODWIN AND KNUT. 173 

to Edmund's banner, and the Danes hastened to 
join Knut. 

The two armies met in a bloody battle at a place 
called Skorstein, near the sea. Beyond it lay a 
thick wood. Both Edmund and Knut proved to 
be gallant leaders, but the Saxon soldiers showed 
cowardice, and when they thought the battle was 
going to Knut they ran for the woods, pursued for 
miles by wrathful Danes. Beyond the forest lay 
little villages, half Danish, half Saxon, and wholly 
ignorant of the struggle at Skorstein. As the 
night came down, Ulf Jarl, pursuing cowardly 
Saxons, found himself lost in the heart of this 
wood. He was miles from Skorstein. Deep un- 
broken forest lay about him, filled with hostile 
Saxons. He knew of no way by which he might 
return to Knut's tents. But stout of heart, the old 
Danish warrior laid himself down to sleep at the 
foot of a beech tree, trusting to the morrow to 
clear away his dangers. 

The dawn of an English summer day turned to 
sunrise. Presently the broad, golden beams of the 
sun stirred and lifted the heavy mists from the 
earth, revealing a stretch of low pasture lands 
lying to westward of the great forest. With the 
mist rose the larks, soaring high up into the blue 
sky, singing as they soared. Everywhere upon 
the broad green pastures roamed the sheep in their 



174 GODWIN AND KNUT. 

heavy fleeces, for it neared the time of shearing, 
and herding them, strode a tall lad from flock to 
flock with his crook in his hand. The pastures 
were cut in two by a road which lay in a long 
slant across them, from the corner of the woods 
far to westward. Along this road the lad was 
eagerly gazing, when a hand was laid upon his 
shoulder. Turning, he saw his old foster father, 
Halli, anxiously watching him and shaking his 
head. 

" The sheep might run into the next county, 
for all of thy tending/' he said quietly. " Art thou 
the son of Geirhild, thy mother, or Ulf Nadr, thy 
father, this morning, Godwin? " 

The boy was very tall, and his foster father 
short and bent. Godwin turned and looked down 
upon him. In the English sunlight he seemed 
every inch the Saxon. His face was fair, and 
his cheeks like the petals of a blush rose. His 
long golden hair fell in silken locks upon his 
shoulders ; but his blue eyes had the clear, piercing 
gaze of a falcon's, and his bare arms and legs, 
under his rude shepherd's dress, were strong and 
sinewy. " Halli," he said, u by the blood of my 
father I am a Saxon ; but my heart is pure Danish, 
for which I am glad this morning. I wish no 
Saxon blood warmed my veins." 

"Hi ! " said Halli, and his grey-blue eyes twinkled 



GODWIN AND KNUT. 175 

in spite of himself, for he was a thrall of Geirhild, 
Godwin's Danish mother. "Hi, lad, have a 
care ! Danes, free Danes, are not loved in this 
country." 

' Ho," roared Godwin, suddenly swinging his 
shepherd's crook above his head as if it were a 
battle-ax; "I would I had been in Knut's army! 
I, too, would have chased the cowasdly brood of 
Saxons ! " 

Halli jumped back as the make-believe battle- 
ax swung too near his head. " Boy, hast thou lain 
out in the night damps and taken a fever ? " he cried. 

Godwin laughed and leaned peaceably upon his 
staff again. " Nay, Halli," he said, " but I have 
news to make thy Danish blood warm. I have 
been longing to tell thee. Was it not thou who 
taught me to love King Knut ? Knut the Bold, 
thou callest him, Knut the Lucky. Have I ever 
been sorry that Svein conquered our Saxon king, 
Ethelred ? ' he continued scornfully. " Do I now 
love Prince Edmund who reigns in Ethelred's 
stead ? " 

" Reigns ? " cried old Halli, turning red. " What 
right has he to reign ? 'Tis Knut who reigns in 
London with Emma, Ethelred's Saxon queen." 

"Aye, Knut. And at Skorstein, yesterday, 
Knut overthrew Edmund on the field of battle," 
laughed the boy. 



176 GODWIN AND KNUT. 

Halli caught him by the arm. His eyes swept 
the peaceful sheep downs. u Of a truth thou 
hast taken a fever ! " he cried. 

Godwin laughed again. " Tis no fever dream, 
foster father/' he said. "'Twas at Skorstein 
yesterday that Edmund and the host of Saxons 
met Knut and the host of Danes. And Edmund 
is no churl/' he continued, his Saxon blood strug- 
gling with the Danish. " He met his stepfather 
in a fair fight, and dealt him a hero's blow. 

"As the armies rushed to battle, Edmund saw 
Knut's banner, and spurring his own horse he 
rode far ahead of his army, dashed up to Knut, 
and swung his battle-ax ; Knut had just time 
to thrust his shield forward in front of the neck of 
his horse. The blow cleft the shield in twain and 
clove the horse's breast. The Danes with a yell 
charged the Saxons. Edmund had to turn his 
horse and ride back toward his own army. 
The Saxons saw his swift riding, and took 
it for flight. Then did every white-livered Saxon 
turn and flee too, racing to the woods pell-mell, 
and tumbling over each other. The Danes gave 
chase with swords and broad-axes. Blood flowed 
on both sides ; and the Danes, drunk with the fury 
of fighting, chased the Saxons far into the thick 
forest there. That is why I wish my blood were 
all Danish," finished the boy, scornfully. 



GODWIN AND KNUT. 177 

" Skorstein lies far from here. Where hast 
thou learned so much ? " said Halli, wonderingly. 

" Why, last night, as I lay by the shepherd's hut, 
along the road comes a terrified Saxon, fleeing, and 
near me he stumbled and fell. I succored him, for 
that was my duty ; but I heard his tale of flight, 
with shame to my Saxon skin. Knut is now mon- 
arch of three kingdoms, for England is his, hence- 
forth." 

" I remember him in Denmark," said Halli, as 
he laid Godwin's simple breakfast before him. 
u He was ten years old when he began to reign, 
and kingship he takes as easily as fighting ; and in 
both, strike he ill or well, all things work for his 
gain." 

The breakfast over, Halli returned to the dis- 
tant village, and Ulf Nadr's boer. Godwin, looking 
abroad over his sheep, saw part of the flock straying 
toward the distant wood, and, crook in hand, went 
leaping toward them with long strides. Suddenly 
he stopped and stood stock still. On the edge of 
the wood appeared a tall, warlike figure, a Dane in 
full armor, staring out into the sunshine of the 
fields, while his battle glove shaded his eyes. 

Godwin remained where he was. All his life he 
had lived in a remote Saxon hamlet, herding sheep, 
and only hearing from others of these great all- 
conquering chiefs. His instinct taught him aright 



178 GODWIN AND KNUT. 

that in the gigantic figure, standing between two 
mammoth beeches, he beheld w 7 ith his own eyes a 
chief of the Danes. It was indeed no other than 
Ulf Jarl. Seeing Godwin, he came swinging across 
the sheep walks, scattering the sheep in every 
direction. Godwin awaited him with the blood 
leaping in his veins; but outwardly he was silent 
and motionless. The great Dane stopped in front 
of him. The powerful warrior and the slender 
shepherd lad measured one another. 

" Good day to you," said Ulf Jarl. 

" Greeting," answered Godwin, quietly. 

The teeth of Ulf Jarl gleamed white for a 
moment under his mustaches, as he heard the 
short word, 

" What is your name ? " he asked. 

"I am called Godwin," said the boy; "and art 
thou one of Knut's men?" 

" I am certainly one of his warriors," returned 
Ulf Jarl, w 7 ith another fleeting smile. " How far is 
it hence to our ships ? " 

Godwin hesitated. Should the Saxon or the 
Dane in him make answer. " I do not know," 
said he, "how you Danes can expect help from 
us, for you have not deserved it." His falcon 
glance leaped to meet that of Ulf Jarl, but 
yielded before the power of the great chief's 
steady eye. 




"On the Edge of the AVood appeared a Tall, Warlike Figure. 1 ' 



GODWIN AND KNUT. 181 

" I will, however, ask of thee to help me to find 
our ships/' said Ulf Jarl, quietly. 

Godwin answered, " Thou hast gone straight 
away from them and far inland across the wild 
forest. The men of Knut are not much liked 
by the people here, and for good reason, for the 
slaughter at Skorstein yesterday is known in the 
neighborhood, and neither you nor any other of 
the men will be spared if they find you. And if 
any one helps you, the same fate awaits him ; but 
I think thou art a good man, even though thou art 
a Dane." 

Ulf Jarl took a gold ring from his finger and 
handed it to Godwin. " I will give thee this ring if 
thou wilt guide me to our men," he said. 

Godwin looked at the ring awhile, but put forth 
no hand to touch it, and then replied slowly, " I 
will not take the ring, but I will try to guide thee 
to thy men, and then thou canst give me the re- 
ward thou thinkest right, when I have earned it. 
Should I not prove able to help thee, then I deserve 
no reward. Now come with me to my father's 
boer." 

Ulf Jarl looked at him in greatest astonishment. 
" Lead me to thy father," he said simply. 

The broad, low farmhouse of Ulf Nadr lay in an 
open field, its yellow roof of freshly woven reeds 
shining golden in the sunshine. 



182 GODWIN AND KNUT. 

" Thou hast no risk to run/' said Godwin, scorn- 
fully ; " all but Halli, my mother's thrall, are gone 
to the village, to drink in Saxon tales of their own 
cowardice," and his voice trembled angrily. 

" Thou art then no Saxon ! " cried Ulf . 

" I am Saxon enough," said Godwin, suddenly 
bethinking himself ; " and yet my grandfather lived 
under King Svein, father of Knut, in Denmark." 

"By thy mother thou art Danish!' cried Ulf, 
joyfully. " Now I know why I trusted thee." 

They found the house as deserted as Godwin 
had expected. Only old Halli threshed a bundle 
of barley by the vat of the mead-house. When he 
saw Ulf and Godwin coming together, he knew Ulf. 
Running toward them, he prostrated himself at Ulf 's 
feet, and lay there motionless ; for he dared not speak 
to a chief, being a thrall. 

"Rise," said Ulf Jarl in Danish. "Dost thou 
know me ?" 

Halli rose, his old seamed face raining tears of 
joy. " Aye," he stammered, " how often have I seen 
thee riding with Thorkel the High, and many's the 
saga I have heard sung of thee." 

Then he and Godwin hurried to prepare a little 
secret room in the mead-house for the hiding of 
Ulf Jarl ; and when at length the thralls and churls 
came back, he was well hidden. 

Ulf Nadr the Saxon was a man of few words, 



GODWIN AND KNUT. 183 

and Geirliild his wife was a quiet, sweet-faced 
woman. Both united all differences of blood by 
loving alike their only son, Godwin. Old Halli 
went to Geirhild and told her all that had hap- 
pened. She it was who told Ulf Nadr of the 
royal guest out in the mead-house. Ulf Nadr 
stretched forth his hands. 

" What has happened, has happened/' he said ; 
"the boy is half a Dane. Do thou secretly set a 
feast before the Jarl, Geirhild. Now I know of 
a truth which way the lad's fortune must turn. 
Since we are given over to the Danes, let him go 
to the Danes. If this deed becomes known that 
our roof sheltered a thane, both my own and my 
son's life will be forfeit." 

Both Ulf Nadr and Geirhild went quietly to see 
Ulf Jarl, and they set a great feast before him and 
hid him all day. At length came the night, gray 
and starless and clouded. Late, when all the boer 
lay asleep, Halli led two horses, well provisioned, 
to the corner where the road across the sheep 
pasture turned to skirt along the woods. Hither 
came the bondi and his wife, with Godwin and Ulf 
Jarl. Halli, kneeling, offered a bridle to Ulf Jarl, 
and then Ulf Nadr and Geirhild tenderly embraced 
Godwin. Halli, too, clung to the boy's neck. 
Ulf Nadr said to Ulf Jarl, " Now up into saddle with 
thee, and farewell ; I give into thy hands my only 



184 GODWIN AND KNUT. 

son ; I ask of thee if thou shouldst come to the 
king, and thy words might have some weight with 
him, to get him into his service, for he cannot stay 
with me hereafter, if our countrymen hear he has 
guided thee away, though I may be able to escape 
myself." 

" Have no care," promised Ulf Jarl ; " thy son 
shall find great favor in Knut's eyes." For well 
he knew how the young king would welcome and 
reward Godwin for leading his thane to safety. 
Then, with a last straining look across the dark 
sheep pastures, and a throbbing sense of home- 
sickness as he heard for the last time the bleating 
of his lambs, Godwin sprang to his saddle, and 
leading the way before Ulf Jarl, rode off into the 
darkness. 

For a long time Ulf followed Godwin silently 
along the rough, uneven road, which changed its 
direction constantly. Now they rode through a 
narrow lane, now followed an almost impassable 
track across a moor, and then again turned to the 
jolting highway. 

" Why," said Ulf, suddenly, a by this traveling 
of yours I know I should never have reached 
Knut's camp with a whole skin." 

" Nor have reached it at all," said Godwin, 
quietly. " These roads are full of Saxons, whose 
arms would not be slow to fight one Dane." 



GODWIN AND KNUT. 185 

" And should we be attacked/' growled Ulf, 
"what then?" 

Godwin jingled his Danish grandfather's sword 
which hung in its scabbard at his side. " They 
would fight two Danes/' he said. 

" Lad/' roared Ulf Jarl, with a voice to raise 
the alarm through a whole village, " had I a son 
as brave as thy sheep pasture hath made thee, I 
would love him beyond speech. Henceforth I 
shall call thee son, for the sake of thy faithfulness 
to a stranger this day." 

" Good," cried Godwin, "that pleases me more 
than thy golden ring. Let me be as thy hench- 
man ; it is enough." 

At daybreak they came to Skorstein. The way 
to the shore led over the battle-field. With eyes 
of horror and a heart that sickened, Godwin looked 
upon the heaps of slain, Dane and Saxon, strewn 
along the road. Ulf Jarl rode up beside him and 
watched his face curiously. 

" What?' 1 he said, "wouldst thou go back to 
sheep-tending ? Who follows me, follows the war 
banner from land to land." 

Godwin tossed his head. "I was only think- 
ing," he said bravely, " if ever I lie dead upon 
a battle-field, may it be with my face to the 
enemy." Ulf Jarl laughed and gave him a great 
slap on the back. " Lad," he said, " there's too 



186 GODWIN AND KNUT. 

good brawn in thee to lie low on any battle-field 
yet." 

They reached the rise of a hill, and suddenly 
Godwin drew rein and his eyes widened in wonder. 
On the great sea plain lay a camp of soldiers, im- 
possible to number. In its midst stood the royal 
tent of Ethelred, from which Knut's Danish flag 
was flying. Upon the sea, sapphire blue in the 
early morning, rode a fleet of ships. For the first 
time Godwin saw and felt the power and strength 
of the Danes. He swung about and fell behind 
Ulf Jarl. 

"What?" cried the warrior, " dost thou not de- 
sire to ride into camp ? " 

" My office of guide is over," said Godwin. " I 
give place to thee now," and he bent his head 
respectfully. 

Bluff Ulf Jarl was pleased with the boy's ready 
wit. "Lad," he chuckled, "thou'lt be a courtier yet." 

When the soldiers recognized the Dane, the ex- 
citement startled Godwin. Their way up the 
long lanes of tents became a triumphal entry. 
Shouts and cries, and tossing up of caps, bewil- 
dered the startled lad. There could not have 
been more joy shown at the return of the king 
himself. Ulf Jarl saw Godwin's wonder. 

" They thought I had become meat for a Saxon 
broad-ax," he said gruffly. 



GODWIN AKD KNUT. 187 

Godwin now noticed the questioning, surly, even 
threatening, glances thrown at him. These grew 
so dark and ferocious that Ulf, too, noticed them. 
A slow smile curled under his mustache. " I will 
try his blood/'' he muttered. They rode directly 
v to the king's tent, and Ulf Jarl dismounting, 
signed to Godwin to dismount also. Then, saying 
a few words to an old servant who stood near, he 
went in to the king, bidding Godwin hold the two 
beasts. Godwin stood before the horses, straight 
and tall. The tongue of his mother, which he knew 
as well as his own, everywhere saluted his ears. 

Presently up lounged a powerfully built Danish 
lad in the garb of a soldier, and bowed to him 
mockingly. 

"Art thou a hostage of King Edmund?' 1 he 
asked. 

u By whose authority dost thou ask me that 
question?" retorted Godwin. 

The Dane looked scornfully upon his mean 
clothes. "I took thee by thy robe for a Saxon 
prince," he answered ; and his companions, stand- 
ing in a group aside, laughed jeeringly. 

" Perhaps thou canst better judge my Saxon 
blood by this," cried Godwin, doubling his fist 
at the Danish lad threateningly. 

" Thou hast a challenge, Sigurd," cried his com- 
rades in delight. 



188 GODWIN AND KNUT. 

"Why," cried Sigurd, standing off, and slowly 
looking Godwin over from head to heel, " the 
Saxon churl will run at my first thrust." 

" Try him," returned Godwin, quietly, slipping 
both bridles over his left arm, while a new light 
leapt into his sunny blue eyes. 

Sigurd hesitated. 

"Dog of a coward," said Godwin between his 
teeth. 

" That from a Saxon ! " cried Sigurd, striking at 
him suddenly and violently. 

" No, by my mother's blood as good a Dane as 
thou," roared Godwin iii excellent Danish ; " but 
by my father's honor I'll fight thee as a Saxon." 

Flinging the horse bridles to the old servant 
of Ulf Jarl, who crept up at this moment, Godwin 
parried Sigurd's blow, and aimed a strong one at 
him. The lads were well matched, yet in strength 
and agility Godwin had the better of it. The strug- 
gle wag sharp ; but at the end of it Sigurd lay at 
Godwin's feet, placed there by one last powerful blow. 

" Say, now," he roared, in Danish, " am I Saxon 
churl or not, thou miserable thrall of a Dane ? ' : 

A heavy hand upon his shoulder jerked him 
round and brought him to his senses. Ulf Jarl 
stood looking at him, his face shining all over 
with silent laughter. 

"Godwin, my son," he said slowly, "canst thou 



GODWIN AND KNUT. 189 

not be trusted with thy brothers ? Upon my soul, 
thou art a pretty cockerel to come into the presence 
of the king. The king desires to see thee, lad." 

Sigurd sneaked to his feet, and with a look of 
amaze stood back, to see his despised opponent 
led into the presence of King Knut. 

Chuckling to himself, Ulf led Godwin to an 
in closure, and pointed to a beautiful court dress 
lying over a chest. 

"Put it on/' he ordered. Without a word, 
Godwin did as he was desired, and the rude 
shepherd lad was changed to the appearance of a 
noble prince. 

" Now," cried Ulf, " can I trust thee, thou young 
varlet, or wilt thou be drawing sword upon the 
whole court to revenge Saxon honor ! ' 

"Sir," said Godwin, "my heart being more Dane 
than Saxon, my pride bade me fight more Saxon 
than Dane. Having proved my Saxon valor, thou 
hast my allegiance as a Dane." 

Ulf looked at him in astonishment. " By the 
hammer of Thor ! ' he cried, " sheep pastures breed 
amazing courtiers." 

Then they went into the presence of the king. 
Godwin saw a great apartment, the walls of which 
were hung with banners, and upon a throne over 
at the side, the king sat with his sad-faced, beauti- 
ful queen, Emma of Normandy. Knut was tall 



190 GODWIN AND KNUT. 

and strong and very handsome, save that his nose 
was thin and somewhat crooked. He had a clear 
complexion with fair, long hair, and his eyes were 
keen and fine. 

When Godwin knelt before him, he raised him 
and said, u Thou art the shepherd lad, who, when 
my brother-in-law, Ulf, came to thee alone and 
unbefriended, offered to lead him back to this 
camp without any reward, save such as he might 
give thee." 

u That thing happened," replied Godwin, simply. 

" Thou didst not know how dear to my heart is 
Ulf Jarl whose life thou saved ? " continued the king. 

" That did I not," said Godwin. 

u So dear," said the king, "that I myself shall 
reward thee. Kneel." Godwin knelt, and taking 
his sword, Knut knighted him then and there, 
saying, " Rise, Jarl Godwin, thy Saxon blood is 
equal to thy Danish, for courage and bravery. 
So, too, I shall bestow upon thee an earldom, and 
Ulf Jarl, that thou mayst be his son indeed, 
marries thee to Gyda his daughter." 

That night there was a great feast, and on the 
high seat beside Ulf Jarl sat Godwin, and with him 
the fair Gyda. True to his word, King Knut be- 
stowed upon them a beautiful English earldom, to 
which, as soon as he became its possessor, Godwin 
brought his mother and father and old Halli. 



PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY. 



iEtius (e'she us). 
Arjuna (ar joo'na). 
Asita (ah seet'a). 
Astrid (as'trid). 
Astyages (as ti'a jees). 
Atossa (afc os'sa). 
Attila (at/ til a). 
Azrael (az ra'el). 

Beer-laha-roi (be erMah hah-ro e). 
Beersheba (Be'er she'ba). 
Bethuel (beth you'el). 
Bjarni (be ar'nee). 
Brattahlid (brat'ta leed). 
Buddha (bood'a). 

Caesars (se'zars). 
Cambyses (kam bi'sez). 
Canaan (ca'nan). 
Chalons (ka'lon). 
Channa (chan'na). 
Clothilde (clo'teeld). 
Clovis (klo'vis). 
Constantinople (con st'an ti no'- 

pie). 
Cyrus (si'rus). 

Demos (de'mos). 
Devadetta (day'va det ta). 
Dothan (do'than). 



Ecbatana (ek bah tah'na). 
Edecon (e'de con). 

Egypt (e'jipt). 
Eparna (ep are'na). 
Ephraim (e'fray im). 
Erik (e'rik). 
Ethelred (eth'el red). 
'Ethiopian (e thi 6' pi an). 

Fredegonde (fred e gund). 
Freydis (fray'dis). 

Gaiseric (gy'sir Ick). 
Gaul (gawl). 
Geirhild (ga'itr hild). 
Geneveva (jen e ve'va). 
Goshen (go'shen). 
Gudrid (goo'drid). 
Gyda (gi'da). 

Hafgerding (hafger ding). 
Halli (hol'lee). 
Harold (har'old). 
Hebrides (heb'ri des). 
Hebron (he'bron). 
Herjulf (her'yulf). 
Herjulfsnes (her'yiilfs neez) 
Hildebrand (hll'de brand). 



Isaac (I'zack). 



191 



192 



PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY. 



Ishmaelites (ish'ma el ites) . 
Isis (I sis). 

Jehovah (je ho'vah). 
Jericho (jer'e ko). 
Jethro (jeth'ro). 
Joehebed (jock'e bed). 
Jordan (j or Man). 
Jovan (jo van'). 

Kahn (kan). 
Kantaka (kan'ta ka). 
Kapilavistu (kap'il a vis tii). 
Knut (kuhnoof). 

Laban (la/ ban). 
Leif (life). 

Lemprius (lem'pree us). 
Lutetia (loo te'shea). 

Mahlah (mahTah). 
Manasseh (man as'seh). 
Marcus (mar'cus). 
Media (meeMi a). 
Merovis (mer'6 vis). 
Mesopotamia (mes o pat a'me a). 
Midian (mid'i an). 
Miriam (meer' e am). 

Naddod (nad'dod). 
Nahor (na'hor). 
Nanda (nan'da). 
Nebo (ne'bo). 

Odin (o'din). 
Oph (ofe). 
Osiris (o si'ris). 

Pasargadaa (pa sar'giih de). 



Pharaoh (fa'ro). 
Potiphar (pot'i far). 

Ripuariau (rip u a'ri an). 

Salic (sal'ic). 
Satou (sah 'too). 
Shechem (shek'em). 
Siddartha (sid dar'tha). 
Sigurd (see'gurd). 
Sinai (si ni). 
Skorstein (skor'stine). 
Soissons (swaw's'awn). 
Suddhodana (sud hode'a nah) 
Svein (svine). 

Tartary (tar'tar ee). 
Tewfik (teu'fick). 
Thebes (thebz). 
Theodosius (the o do' she iis). 
Thorfinn (thor'finn). 
Thorgest (thor'jest). 
Thorhild (thor'hild). 
Thorkel (thor'kel). 
Thorwald (thor'wald). 
Tirzah (ter'zah). 
Tyrker (tir'ker). 

Ulf Jarl (ulf yarl). 
Ulf Nadr (ulf nad'r). 

Valhalla (val hal'la). 
Valkyr (val'keer). 
Viswamitra (vis wa mi tra). 
Vitou (vi'too). 

Yasodhara (ya sode'ha ra). 
Zipporah (zip po'ra). 



rr - lUnt 



JUL 7 1902 



I COPY DEL. rOCAT.DIV. 
JUL. 7 1902 




nMHHl 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



021 



83 815 2 















